


Refracted

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Basketball, Coming Out, M/M, Masturbation, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:55:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4499706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>REFRACTED:</b><br/><i> 1. To deflect (light, for example) from a straight path by refraction.</i><br/>2. To alter by viewing through a medium.<br/>3. Bent</p><p> </p><p>Jared knows exactly what he needs to do: earn a 4.0 grade point average, lead the basketball team to the state championship, nab a spot on the Homecoming Court, and be the best son two Catholic parents could ask for. He should know, this sort of stuff has been his life for the last 17 years, but this is when everything changes.</p><p>Befriending Jensen Ackles, who everyone knows of but doesn’t really know, opens Jared’s eyes to an array of possibilities he’d never considered. With Jensen in his life, Jared finds the courage to to be his own person, recognize his real feelings, and make his own decisions when it comes to school, friends, and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the very lovely [Dephigravity!](http://dephigravity.livejournal.com) Check out his [art post](http://dephigravity.livejournal.com/109630.html)!
> 
> Written for 2015 SPN_J2_BigBang
> 
> Warnings: NSFW graphic in Chapter 2, Religious guilt, struggles with homosexuality/coming out, judgement of and bashing of homosexuals

Jared’s first memory is saying the _Our Father_. Bent over the side of his race car bed with his mama on his left and his papa on his right, their voices worked through the prayer while Jared was straggling behind as he did his best to remember every word. It took a few years until he could whip through the messages on his own, and by the time he was seven, his parents watched from the doorway. They mouthed along and offered him _God bless you_ before they turned off the light and left him to sleep.

Prayer was common at every function with the family, especially at dinner time when all five gathered at the dining room table together and bowed their heads over fresh plates of food that his mama cooked up every night. They were all expected to be present – in body and in mind – so when Jared is 17 with a leg bouncing under the table and his stomach swirling with nerves, neither of his parents are patient. 

“JT, dear, why don’t you lead us through it again,” Mama asks, voice tight yet leading him to say yes without a second thought. 

_It’s Jared_ , he thinks, hating the nickname he’s been tagged with since childhood. Instead, he says “Yes, ma’am … Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty …”

The words fall out of his mouth from years of memories buried deep inside, all while he feels a fire burn down to his toes knowing he’s damned for all the other thoughts gathering inside. 

If he wasn’t so beautiful, Jared would blame Jensen Ackles for his downfall. 

His parents surely will.

In the end, Jared smiles at the anticipation of seeing Jensen later tonight, for hearing his voice, and standing near enough to feel heat come off in waves. 

Mama thinks he is just glad to say grace. It is more like he is glad to be done with the prayer so he can dig into his meal and get this Saturday night going.

Jared tags along with Danneel and Aldis out to the Kane Farm, like most Saturday nights. This one is different because he knows that their bonfire crowd has been growing, knows that Christian Kane has managed to befriend the Ackles boys on the next plot of land over. Jensen and Josh showed up the last few weekends with a small group of their own friends.

The new guests aren’t ones Jared knows well. Josh and his friends are a few years older. The others, he has never spoken a word to at school, but he knows them all the same. Felicia Day has shortly cropped hair, parted on the side with a long sweep of teased up orange hair, and leads the A/V Club with Mr. Omundson. Rob uses his rough, wailing voice to head up a garage band that always aggressively plays tailgating parties before big football games without a single invitation, taking the brunt of sports fans tossing soda cans and sandwiches at them. And Genevieve Cortese hides her pale face and dark eye make-up with equally dark, long hair cascading over one eye. 

They represent the core tenants of Austin South High School, where the athletes skate through four years of education and the outcasts keep everything running behind the scenes. Rounding out the group is Jensen Ackles with his faux-hawk, skinny jeans, ruffed-up Converse, and graphic tees that make everyone stop and read his chest before turning away. 

Jensen runs the art club, and everyone knows it, even when they don’t give him an ounce of credit. His block handwriting is obvious in every banner and flier hanging throughout the school, splashed with edgy strikes of color to mess up the perfection in his letters. 

Aside from his bold shirts, Jensen stays back in the shadows, unlike Jared with his face displayed in the athletics hall as the current leading basketball scorer in Travis County’s history. Jared smiles and laughs loudly with any and everyone while Jensen keeps to himself in the hallways and during class. Jensen scribbles over tests and notes, dresses up every piece of paper with his sketches and dreamy lines, while Jared stacks books with perfectly-folded covers and finishes tests halfway through the period to do more homework until the bell.

Jared is welcome nearly everywhere he goes, while Jensen is closed off and uptight, or so says the rest of the school. Jensen strays from human touch from those he isn’t close to, and Jared will offer hugs and handshakes to everyone he meets. After all, the church taught him good manners and his parents encouraged love and care in everything he does.

There is no person more opposite to Jared, at least none that he has met. And Jared can’t stop thinking of Jensen, can’t stop watching the way Jensen’s lips slowly open and close mere centimeters as he talks to his friends, how his eyes narrow with tiny lines when he smiles, or how his voice is low and soothing as he sings along to the radio when he thinks no one is watching.

Jared doesn’t quite understand his need to watch every move Jensen makes at these bonfires, or to know everything about the guy. But here he is, cataloging fact after fact as his friends talk around them and Jensen stays in a tiny circle with Christian, Felicia, and Genevieve. 

Jensen’s fingers dance on his hips when he likes a song but doesn’t want to show it. And his bottom lip continually shines in the firelight as he gets nervous and keeps licking it. And his shoulders hunch in when he catches Jared watching him. 

They are polar opposites to the _n_ th degree in a high school full of judgment and cliques, and Jared still wants to understand every thought raging through his brain. 

Like how he knows that Jensen is gay, and Jared, according to the Bible, the church, and his parents, absolutely, positively, cannot be.

Bright and early Sunday morning, Jared rises to the sun spilling into his room and cascading over his face. His skin feels warm and sticky, and he has to blink against the brightness until he realizes he should just get up, no matter how late he snuck back in the night before.

No matter that he stayed up for most of the night watching TV and pretending to not recreate the entire evening at the farm while his eyes glazed over to a late night showing of Poltergeist. 

When the scenes replay in his head again, over and over, he rolls and buries his face in the pillow. He releases a long, rough shout into the billowy cotton, then sucks in a deep breath to steady himself against the tension tightening his muscles.

Just as he glances at his alarm clock to see it is now 8:38 am, his mother knocks and calls at his bedroom door. “Sunday church,” she reminds him, as if he has to be told twice.

Every Sunday, the whole Padalecki family files into the car for the 10-minute ride across their side of town to attend mass led by Father Thomas. The community adores the pastor’s bright smile and the charm of his lessons. Jared doesn’t care either way, but he knows it is his duty to attend, folding hands and kneeling through all the appropriate parts. 

Church lasts for 50 minutes and he spends half of it searching the crowd for people he knows, or new attendees he has never seen before. Sometimes, he stares at the statue of Mary on the left side of the pulpit and considers the softness of her face, the thin Mona Lisa smile, and the long drape of her blue gown. His focus goes to the center of the chancel, where the large imposing crucifix hangs as the not-so-subtle reminder of Jesus’s dedication to humanity and his sacrifice for every man, woman, and child. 

Jared takes in the face of the sculpture and he thinks of the Bible chapters he had to read through catechism classes. There are more than enough stories of Jesus’s compassion for others, his teachings to lead a good life and accept all people for all needs. Jared believes in that message and knows that he tries to lead a good life, be a good person, and share a smile as often as possible. He also knows there are expectations hanging over his head with every step he takes. 

Not that they’re vocalized every day, but they are there all the same. Quick glances from his parents when he tests the boundaries of good, public behavior. Hugs and kisses from extended family when they acknowledge he’s growing into a fine, handsome man. Tests and papers that tell all just how smart Jared really is, beyond the mystique of being a jock. Game scores that impress upon all that he is a hard-working, highly-efficient athlete that wins games and energizes crowds. 

Every day, Jared faces metrics that tell him he’s a good person, that he is becoming exactly who they all expect him to be. When he really thinks about it – really takes a good hard look at the whole picture – it scares him down to the core to know that he is doing exactly what everyone else wants and expects of him, yet maybe he’s not accomplishing all that _he_ aspires for. 

Before he can think too long on that dilemma, all the joined parishioners stand to sing the final song and watch the procession of the pastor and altar boy and girl exit the church with music still playing. As he turns towards the small contemporary choir at the front right of the chapel, he catches Stephen Amell staring back and rolling his eyes with a good-natured shrug. The song ends and parishioners file out to the open, sunny air, and Jared lags in the aisle to catch up with his friend. 

“Another Sunday in the books,” Stephen jokes while wringing an arm around Jared’s neck. 

Jared smiles as he realizes Stephen has to stretch a little now; Jared’s latest growth spurt has him edging out his friend. “How long until we’re gone to college?”

Stephen widens his eyes in surprise. “You dying to leave us all behind?”

“No, just to sleep in on Sundays.” Jared smiles and nudges Stephen off his shoulders once they’re out in the bright sunshine. “My parents don’t make Jeff go when he’s home on the weekend.”

“How’d he get so lucky?”

“He claims he goes to a service on Sunday nights when he’s back on campus.”

Stephen scoffs, “Yeah, right.”

“Right? What a lucky asshole.” Jared laughs until he realizes they’re standing just a few feet from his parents, who have heard every word he’s just said. Including the curse word. 

“JT,” his father says tightly. “We’re still on the church grounds, you know?”

“Yes, sir,” Jared answers quickly then shoves at Stephen to leave him alone. 

“Later, nerd!” Stephen yells over his shoulder and then he’s gone and Jared is left staring at the space in the crowd Stephen slipped through to find his family. 

He doesn’t want to turn to face his family, doesn’t want to hear how he should never use language like that, especially not on the lawn of the Lord, Our Father. 

All he receives are quick looks from his parents before they suggest going out for brunch with the Harrises, and Jared can’t argue that when he can sit at the end of the table with Danneel, leaving Megan to cater to Danneel’s annoying younger brother. 

At the restaurant, Jared leads the group to the table with Danneel coming up behind him so they can quickly pick their seats. Megan grimaces at him then smirks while being far too obvious with her loud whispering.

“You just wanna sit with your girlfriend.”

Jared glares at her as he takes his seat and wants to snap back at his sister. Danneel isn’t his girlfriend, just a close friend, and he hasn’t thought of her as anything else in at least a few years. Sure, when they were young and going through catechism together, Danneel was the cutest girl in class and it was all just a junior high crush, like most boys had on Danneel. But nothing ever came of it, and Jared never cared to make something happen. With Danneel or anyone else, really. No one has caught his eye in a long time, and he figures he has enough on his plate between school and basketball and college shopping. 

“How’s school going for you?” Jared’s mom asks of Danneel as she leans against the table to watch them both. Maybe a bit too carefully – Megan isn’t the only one insistent that Jared and Danneel must be a secret couple.

“It’s going really good,” Danneel responds with a bright smile. “Cheerleading for football is dying down and now we’re ramping up for basketball.” She winks at Jared and lightly elbows him, which makes him smile back at her. “It’s going to be a good year for everyone!”

“And how about Homecoming? Did you find yourself a special date yet?” Now Jared’s mom is the one winking, which brings out a groan from Jared.

“Mom, could you not?” Jared whines.

“I’m asking a very innocent question, JT.”

“Jared,” he corrects her. 

His mom waves him off and focuses back on Danneel. “So, Homecoming … got a dress yet?” In seconds, Danneel and his mom are verbally shopping for everything needed at the dance, and Jared rolls his eyes while turning away from the conversation.

Sure, he’ll go to the dance, and yeah, he’ll enjoy being out with his friends, all gussied up and in the mood for celebration. But he’s not about to go into it with his mom, who has her own set of memories for traditional Homecomings back in her day. He knows he’ll ask Danneel eventually … she’s still getting over her breakup with Ryan Hansen, who dropped her once he got to college and found a pool of new hook-ups. Jared knows it’ll be easier for the both of them to go with a friend than battle any romantic attachments when there are none on his radar.

In the fall, Jared is focused on training for basketball tryouts, even when he’s a shoe-in to start at forward, just as he has since he was a sophomore. Book-ended by Stephen and Aldis, Austin South High School has skated through the conference and regional play-offs, with runs at the state championship that have yet to pay off.

Everyone says this is the year – the players, coaches, teachers, district administration, neighbors, the papers, and on and on and on. Jared ignores the pressure and figures it’ll be another two wins and out like last year. Still, he hits the pavement at Singer Park every day after school. He aims for hitting three pointers and layups, tests his hops on a dozen or so dunks, and attempts to nail one from the half-court line. The latter is a lost hope, but the others he nails without fail. 

He starts up another circuit of shots and layups and dunks, but he’s interrupted half an hour later by his phone’s alarm reminding him he can’t be late for dinner. The _or else_ is loosely defined, as his parents have never done more than slant a terse look his way the few times he has stumbled in a few minutes past grace, but he doesn’t bother testing their patience anymore. 

It’s just easier to follow the road map in front of him … get straight As, win basketball games, be popular and well liked everywhere, all so he can get into a good school, go to college, graduate, and get a good job before hitting the next list of standards that tell the world, and his parents, that Jared Padalecki is a good person. 

Jared gathers his backpack, basketball, phone, and clothes from school. It’s a precarious task to leave the park with everything on his arms, barely in his hold, but he does his best while letting the ball bounce a few times as he gets things better situated. All the while, he glances around and catches the free-spirited Felicia Day pedaling fast as she can on an old-school bike with winged handlebars and giant, thick tires spinning over the roadway when she passes. 

“Come on, ya dumb turkey!” she calls over her shoulder, and that’s when Jared hears the heavy pounding of feet coming after her. 

“I ain’t fucking dumb!” Jensen Ackles yells as he dares catching up to her with his faded-red Chuck Taylors slapping on the pavement. 

“You ain’t, huh?” she laughs back.

Jensen laughs as well and slows his run when Felicia turns at the nearby intersection, looping back towards him. “I am a turkey all the way!” He runs his hand over one pink cheek then the other before dragging it through his hair. It sticks out in every direction, adding to the disheveled t-shirt that is partly tucked in at one corner of his hip.

Jared’s breath catches and he stares, finds himself void of any thoughts other than how quickly his heart beats. Probably just as fast as Jensen’s is, but not quite in tune. It thumps harshly in his chest, and he prays it’s not obvious, but he thinks he’s caught to some degree when he realizes Jensen’s bright, clear green eyes are focused right on him. 

“Hey,” Jensen offers quietly. 

“Hi, hey,” Jared responds quicker than anything, smile creasing the corner of his mouth. It’s the very first words he’s ever spoken to Jensen Ackles, and he quickly realizes he needs more to fill the silence. His mouth opens a few times, but nothing comes out. Feelings burn within as he experiences wave after wave of embarrassment, elation, shame, and desire. 

He wants to move forward and touch that fussed-up hair, longs to smell the salty tang of sweat, anything more than just standing still and wondering what it’s like to be in Jensen Ackles’ shoes. Or heck, even to stand right beside them. 

Only, Jensen takes a few steps to meet up with Felicia, who rides random circles in the street and watches the encounter with a sideways glance. “See ya.”

Jared smiles then tampers it down, despite how hot his cheeks suddenly become. “Yeah, sure. See ya later.”

Stupidly, he watches Jensen and Felicia leave, doesn’t move until they’re far off in the distance and his phone chirps with a new text. To check the message, he has to rearrange everything in his arms, and he curses himself out for looking so foolish on the sidewalk with a huge haul as he stared at Jensen Ackles doing nothing more than pass by.

He winces when he finally gets to read the text from his little sister. 

_Mama says you have five minutes before she locks the screen door and you can eat on the porch_

Everything shifts in his arms and hands, but he finally gets a decent pile together and he jogs home, kicking the basketball ahead of him the whole time. 

It takes a little over four minutes to hit the front porch and swing open the unlocked screen door. He dumps all of his things in the foyer then marches into the dining room where his mom, dad, and sister are seated. The table is set as formally as always, and everyone is perfectly perched in their seats when he pulls his out to sit. It’s unnerving to see from this angle, to know they’re all waiting on him, and won’t move an inch until all five are seated together.

Just before he sets his butt in the chair, he’s stopped by his mom tsking with a tip of her head. “You know the rules, JT. Wash up before you eat up.”

In quick succession, his sister snickers and his brother rolls his eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he answers on instinct. “Apologies.”

A minute later, he’s back with damp hands that he didn’t bother drying all the way just so he could join them immediately. As Jared tugs the navy cloth napkin into place, the others bow their heads and he’s quick to catch up. 

“Who would like to lead grace tonight?” his father asks the group, yet he glances at Jared, keeping Jared’s gaze throughout the awkward silence. 

Jared knows this rule: Last one at the table is the first one to speak. And so he rattles off grace, feeling more than a few ounces of guilt that he was late for dinner. Especially when the conversation starts with Megan talking about an upcoming band concert and trails into Jeff talking about the classes he attends when he’s not at home. When that line of storytelling dries up, Megan teases Jeff about his latest girlfriend … Ann or Audrey or something … and the way Jeff blushes makes Jared chew slower and listen very carefully as Jeff insists she’s just a really cool girl, someone different than anyone he’s known before, and he really digs her.

Jared turns his attention to his plate, eating spoonfuls of mashed potatoes that feel like cement in his mouth with how slowly he’s chewing and swallowing it all. His brain turns over and over, and he thinks about Jensen Ackles, and how Jared likes looking at someone so different from all the others in school. There’s something highly admirable in a guy who’s willing to traverse the expectations of the south, where children grow up to be the best picture of masculinity and athleticism imaginable. That Jensen portrays calm, collected confidence without speaking a word, and yet a simple _hey_ had captured Jared’s mind in that very second … and for quite a few to follow.

He tampers it down with a hard swallow, blinking quickly as if that will clear his head of these wayward thoughts. It seems to do the trick for a few minutes, but he’s completely at a loss for words when his father next opens his mouth.

“So, Jared, you got plans for Homecoming?”

Jared goes to Homecoming with Danneel Harris, three-time Homecoming court member and this year’s front-runner for queen. Aldis and Stephen laugh over Jared’s increased chances to wear a crown himself, since history denotes that the King and Queen have typically attended the dance together. After all, only the best for the Queen … and many think Jared is just that.

He shakes off the jokes, shrugs away any other mentions of the possibility, plays it subtle and unaffected, because that’s what he does. He will graciously accept the crown if and when his name is announced, but in all the time before that, he just wants to enjoy hanging with his friends with only a few adult chaperones to keep an eye on them. 

Throughout the night, he admires the party’s décor, with the gymnasium decked out in black and gold. A number of signs declare tonight as one of their many _GOLDEN MEMORIES_ , and Jared smirks as he imagines Jensen making each discrete line for those letters and struggling to not hide some sarcastic remark. Dances have never been Jensen’s scene, or for his friends. So Jared is surprised, mightily, when a handful of those friends show up at the door with tickets in hand. Jensen straggles behind them, and Jared can’t see much, but it’s obvious he isn’t dressed for the occasion and is quickly escorted to the hallway by a teacher for further discussions. 

Jared stands on his tip toes in hopes for a better view before Danneel grabs his elbow and spins him around for another dance.

Jared and Danneel join their friends out on the Kane Farm, crowns properly atop their heads and smiles firmly in place. Danneel kisses him on the cheek whenever she refers to him as her king, and he does his best to beam proudly as the crowd watches what they think is a friendship finally shifting into something else.

The only shifting Jared is doing is directed towards Jensen, who mills on the edge of the shadows, picking at hay and tossing it at the fire. Felicia, Genevieve, and Alona are near him, but not exactly connected as they’re in colorful, funky cocktail dresses with interesting fabric cuts or big poofy skirts, and Jensen wears a faded plaid flannel over a t-shirt that declares _Oh whale!_ with a drawing of the giant aquatic mammal. His jeans and red Chucks make it obvious he wasn’t welcome at the dance; more telling is Christian and Tahmoh reliving pranks they pulled while there, including predictably spiking the punch in addition to syncing _Bump and Grind_ to the DJ table and causing the faculty to have a complete coronary until they could finally shut it off. 

When the artsy girls shuffle their way over to the barrel filled with dark beer bottles, Jared tucks his hands into his suit pockets and dares to step towards Jensen. The movement seems to startle Jensen, and Jared immediately stops and bites his tongue.

Jared admires the coppery glow on Jensen’s cheeks, how his eyes shine brighter with the fire blazing before him. And now Jared can perfectly feel each muscle in his face crease with nerves, fear, confusion. He knows he wants to talk to Jensen, but isn’t quite sure why. Knows he rather enjoys watching Jensen, just looking at him, and yet doesn’t want to think about it.

Of course, his mind rattles on anyway and suddenly he is bombarded with a number of images that make him uncomfortable in all the wrong places. Especially while in public. 

He doesn’t want to think on that, and yet he finds himself still staring at Jensen, who shrugs as Jared steps a bit closer. “Not much of a drinker? Just one of the good kids?”

Jared swallows, hard, and takes a quick breath to steady himself. “Not really either. Just like hanging out.” Jensen nods and Jared searches for something to say. Anything. “Kind of sucks you couldn’t stay at the dance,” he says then mentally kicks himself for bothering to bring that up. 

“Kind of?” Jensen asks with a chuckle. Jared enjoys the tiny scrape in the sound. “The only thing that really sucks was bothering to go there then turn my ass right around. Should’ve just stayed home the whole time.”

“Yeah, that’s gotta suck.” He rocks back on his heels and tucks his hands deeper into his pants pockets, then pulls them out when he feels like he’s drawing attention to the sleek fabric and hard crease that his mama put into them with her iron just an hour before the dance. “Could be worse though ...”

“What? Like being stuck there all night?” Jensen chuckles again, and Jared likes the sound the second time around, so he smiles with him even when the question seems harsh and bitter. 

It’s oddly silent, even as conversations build around them with random outbursts of laughter or chiding remarks. Jared looks beyond the fire to Danneel, Aldis, and Matt racing one another to down a blue Solo cup of vodka and soda, then turns to Jensen again. He watches Jensen’s fingers split a few more pieces of hay before flicking them at the flames. 

“You don’t like dances?” Jared tries.

“Not really.”

“Why not?” he asks quickly, and the way Jensen narrows his eyes makes Jared backtrack. “I mean, maybe they’re not the best thing, but everyone goes and you get to dress up and hang out with friends and dance.”

Jensen’s eyebrows rise, along with the corner of his mouth for a brief moment. “You really like dances, huh?” 

“It’s just … what everyone does.”

“So it’s expected of you?” he asks while watching Jared for any reaction. “You don’t always have to follow the rules and shit, tie guy.”

Jared automatically reaches for his tie, straightening it out between his thumb and fingers. “Tie guy?”

“Last year, you were always in ties, it seems.”

He clears his throat to respond and has to do it again when he feels a solid lump blocking him from talking without squeaking. “We have to wear ‘em on game day.”

“Oh, right,” he says with a quick snap of his fingers, spraying pieces of hay into the air, “basketball player.”

Jared nods and licks his lips with a brewing excitement that they’re talking about something more interesting than Jensen’s dislike for dances. “Forward.”

Jensen crumbles the last few pieces of withered hay between his thumb and forefinger. Jared watches intently as Jensen brings his hand up and reaches towards the fire, yet never releases them. Jensen slowly rolls his fingers over the straw then examines how they float towards the ground and settle among tattered grass.

“If dances are so terrible, why did you try to show up?”

Jensen lets out a short, harsh laugh with his head bouncing back for a brief moment. “It was all petty shit anyway.”

“It wasn’t that stupid.”

“You had fun with the ceremony of slow songs and stilted dancing with dates all the assholes think you should be with?”

Jared lightly sighs and catches Danneel’s eye. She waves towards him and he offers his hand up in a quick returning gesture. “Yeah, it was good.”

“You sure?” Jensen looks over and smirks like he’s waiting for Jared to give in and admit it was the worst evening of his life. It wasn’t, so all he can do is shrug. Jensen does, too, as if waving off the point. “Some people love ‘em, I just don’t get the pomp and circumstance of it all. If I want to dress up and hang out with my friends, I just will. I don’t need a damn marketing spiel to tell me I should do it.”

Jared bites his lip from picking apart Jensen’s reasoning, because all he can think about is Jensen’s handwriting all over the banners marketing the dance to the students. Every piece of literature across the school and handed out in homeroom declaring it a ‘must-attend!’ event ‘no one should miss!’ 

One of Jensen’s shoulders lifts with a lack of confidence rarely shown. “If it’s something you’re into, fine. But don’t expect me to be there.”

“Not even for senior year?” he asks softly.

“Not even on my last day on earth.”

Jensen smiles with his declaration, overriding the derision in his statement. More like his promise, that he would never be caught dead at such an occasion. Jared chews on the thought while watching Jensen’s profile, because there’s a new conversation happening off to the side and Jared knows theirs is now over. 

With a deep breath, Jared subtly kicks the grass and stews over the fact that his first real conversation with Jensen went this way, that he couldn’t avoid asking more and more questions even when he didn’t like the answers.

Everyone eats lunch together. They sit at their regular table near the front aisle, where most every student has to pass. Jared, Aldis, Danneel, and Katie, accompanied by a handful of other friends. It’s not unusual to see cheerleader uniforms or letter-men jackets at their table each week. They all sit close, unafraid of being right on top of one another, reaching across each other to talk and share lunches.

Jared notices Jensen’s table, with Felicia, Sophia, Jason, and Richard. The five take up nearly as much room as Jared and his friends do, but they’re all spaced out with work pieces on the tabletop to show off. Jensen glances around the lunchroom then scribbles in his brown leather bound sketchbook. He does it nearly every day, until he finds a subject, apparently, and then he gets to drawing. Jared can’t tell what goes into the book from across the cafeteria, but he wonders about what fills all those pages. 

“Why’re you watching the gay table?” Matt asks, reaching across the table and flicking Jared on the nose before his full attention returns to his friends again.

“I’m not … what? Why do you call it that?”

“Because they’re all gay.”

Danneel rises from her seat to lean over and smack Matt on the side of the head. “Don’t say that, dumbass.”

“What?” he harps, holding his ear. “Since when is gay bad?”

“Since the bible told me so,” Aldis replies before biting into his apple. “Right, Jay?”

Surely, he’s read passages in the Good Book, but he has considered it more of a guide than a rule book. He knows that people shouldn’t be stoned, nor should there be servitude or lashings for behavior that is perfectly acceptable in this day and age. And he knows that there are plenty of homosexuals in the world, understands that Jensen is one as well, and Jared still wants to get to know the free spirit, has wondered a bit about why … but it doesn’t mean he’s really considered the repercussions.

“Yeah, the Bible totally says gay is bad,” Matt argues.

Danneel throws her banana peel at Matt, nailing him in the cheek and making him screech. “Stop saying gay is bad, you moron!”

“You could all just stop saying it,” Jared suggests. 

“Why? Are you gay?” Aldis asks … surely teasing.

Except, the table goes mostly quiet as they watch Jared, anticipate his response. First, he smirks, then he cocks his head to the side. “And what if I was?”

Aldis watches Jared, thinking through his answer, then shrugs nonchalantly. “Your prerogative, I guess. Just don’t bring your gay into the locker room.”

Jared tips his head further in judgment. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Aldis looks at the rest of their friends. “Anyone got leftovers?”

“God, you’re like a garbage disposal,” Katie sighs, and the rest carry on new conversations like the disruption and tension had never stalled them.

When the basketball season opens, hundreds of students fill the stadium to witness the brand new uniforms. Bright blue and gold dress the squads, with SOUTH in bold, white block letters on the front. A decorative _15_ stitched just above the numbers on their backs are courtesy of Aldis’s mom … a small nod to the senior class who are ready to make this their season.

Jared has held onto number 17 since junior high when he led varsity from sixth through eighth grade. Putting it on in the locker room just before the game speaks to him, about the seventeen years he’s been on this planet, of the seventeen games they’ll play this season before the playoffs determine his future. He’s on the brink of something new, exciting, life changing, and he’s wearing that very number. 

“You think scouts are out there yet?” Matt asks from his locker a few slots down from Jared. 

“It’s too early,” Stephen insists.

“It’s never too early,” Tahmoh adds with a cocky grin. “I’ll be all dressed up and ready to go for ‘Bama State.”

Matt throws a towel at Tahmoh’s head. “As if they’d let you past the border.”

The conversation grabs Jared’s attention, to think that even the first game of the season will draw attention from college recruiters. He’s been planning on Texas A&M for months … for the academic scholarship he’s already been offered. Sure, basketball was part of the deal, too, but Mama and Papa had insisted he go somewhere better known for engineering, a career he could really make money in. 

Not to say Jared has been daydreaming about playing basketball professionally. When he was first starting out and watching some of the greats on TV … just starting grammar school and seeing the tail end of Michael Jordan’s career, or the start of Kobe’s. He’s thought about it a thousand times in his life, and then his parents stressed school over and over and over. 

“Hey, Jare!” Tahmoh yells. “You gonna go to ‘Bama?”

“I wish,” he jokes, but the laughter dies before it reaches his ears. It wasn’t on the list he showed his parents … but it did make an appearance on his first draft.

He wanted to keep playing in college, never thought much about giving it up, though he can admit to himself that there are days that it’s just another obligation to add to the calendar. He doesn’t know what it’s like to not commit half the school year to the sport. Can’t imagine going home right after school from October through March, and even after that, he’s typically training or playing pick-up games with the guys to keep in shape. 

Coach enters the locker room, slapping his open palm against his dry erase clip board to get their attention.

“Alright, ladies! You ready to put on your big-kid pants and play some ball?”

“Hell yeah!”


	2. Chapter 2

At the change in school quarters, Jared’s schedule switches so he has gym class during fifth period, right before lunch. As does Jensen Ackles. They’re not in the same class, but they do pass one another in the locker room and out on the field during flag football and random field events; Jared does his best to not sulk at the thought that with just one small adjustment, they could spend a whole period together, five days a week, for two months.

His interest – no, curiosity – in all things Jensen grows stronger every day that he sees him. He finds himself distracted during class more often than not, and his friends are beginning to notice. Instead of pointing fingers at the real subject, Matt asks if Jared’s got it for the A/V nerd (Felicia) or the drama queen (Genevieve) as they both stroll through class with Jensen filling out that little trio of half-assed participation. 

Jared rolls his eyes, elbows Matt, and tells him to get a life. 

“It’s totally cool if you’re into the weirdos,” Matt says with a chuckle. I bet they do crazy shit when they go down on you.”

“Dude!” Jared harps with another elbow to Matt’s gut. “No need to be a total creep.”

“Seriously, though … Aldis said he used to make out with Cortese in junior high and she was like a rag doll he could tug around anywhere he wanted.”

Jared glares at Matt’s sly glances in Genevieve’s direction, and finally returns to the game of flag football going on in front of them. He races across the field for every play in an effort to drive the image of Aldis and Genevieve out his mind. Of course, his body is filled with the hormones of a teenage boy and his nerves thrum with dirty excitement picturing someone as short and thin as Genevieve being totally engulfed by Aldis’s tall, lean body. 

Instead of judging himself on the matter, Jared uses the extra energy to sprint faster down the field, to reach farther, and play hard until Mr. Morgan blows his whistle. The game breaks up, along with the classes so students can head back inside to the locker rooms for showers and the rest of their day. Thanks to the dirty thoughts planted in his brain, Jared has run himself ragged and is fully sweated up. He grabs a towel from the utility closet and heads into the showers where a dozen other guys are already washing up. The stalls are split by eight-foot walls that provide a semblance of privacy between neighbors, but Jared quickly remembers why it’s courtesy to never turn around in the shower and keep your face into the shower stream.

When he spins in place to wet the back of his head and neck, he has an unimpeded view of a few wet, slick, shiny backs. Even as he tells himself not to look, his eyes immediately zero in on bare asses and the gentle curves of ass cheeks. Jared curses himself and draws his sights up those backs, but his feet won’t help him escape the view. They won’t move, he’s firmly planted in place, and finding himself in a brand new hell: two stalls to the left is Jensen Ackles, who stands in profile as he reaches for a bar of soap off the corner shelf and lathers up his face, chest, and shoulders. 

Jared definitely can’t turn an inch now, his entire body frozen in time as he accounts for every square inch of that long, lean, tight body that turns in different directions to get wet, lather up, and rinse off. He catalogs the slow drag of Jensen’s fingers over his arms, across his lower back, and down his thighs as he washes away soapy water. 

Breathing is impossible. Blinking, too. Even with cool water raining down on Jared’s shoulders, he feels heated up all over, waves of hotness dragging across his skin and making him break out in a sweat despite all the other water around him. He goes light headed and hears the vicious pounding of his heart deep in his chest, and he has to lock his knees to prevent himself from meeting the tiled floor face first. 

A quick snap of a towel at his shoulder burns brighter than the flutter of heat building deep in his belly. He comes back to the here and now when Aldis flips his towel at Jared again and laughs loudly, the noise echoing off the white walls. 

“Yo, Padalecki! Grub time!”

Jared watches Aldis pass on to the lockers in the far corner then turns back to his shower. He does his best to ignore the quick flash of green eyes catching him staring where he shouldn’t have. Quickly, Jared slides the shower knob to the right to make the water even colder. With a silent prayer, he hopes he can wash away the ill thoughts filling his head … the replay of Jensen’s naked form, those hands touching silky wet skin, the bubbly soap slipping down his back and thighs and ankles.

Clenching his eyes shut, Jared tries to think of better things like basketball and his Grandma Rose and thunderstorms, which promptly lands him into a hell of trouble again. He has quickly grown hard, so fast and so firm that his gut aches with tension. It’s all he can do to stay under the cold shower and will his dick to return to soft and uninterested as fast as humanly possible. 

He’ll blame Matt for all of this. For ever mentioning Aldis and Genevieve screwing around. He hopes that thinking of his dumb moronic friends will get him out of this mess, but the longer he stands in the shower, the more he recalls just how Jensen looked under the wide spray of water. 

The noise of pouring water lessens as showers shut off and guys slowly make their way to the lockers and clothes and classes. Things Jared should be doing right now instead of reliving every frame his eyes caught of Jensen soaked up from head to toe.

Finally, Jared shuts the water off, left as the last one in the showers. He wraps his towel around his waist, but knows his hard-on will be far too obvious under thin terry cloth, so he does his best to side-step the few dozen guys shuffling around the locker room. Knocking shoulders and twisting in all directions, he avoids anyone’s attention until he can get to a bathroom stall and lose the towel. Even cheap terry cloth aggravates his skin and sends tiny shocks all through his system. 

Now in the cool air, his dick seems to get the picture and ease up on him. It doesn’t last long, though, as Jared thinks about the guys still busy at their lockers. He knows he can’t exit yet, can’t dare to be seen until his erection is gone. He has no clue when that will happen, but he definitely is aware that trying to physically push it down with his hand doesn’t help. The damp, warm skin of his palm brushes like velvet, and he shakes with a flutter in his stomach reawakening his wayward thoughts of Jensen. Before he realizes it, he’s rubbing his palm over the head of his cock, then squeezes, hoping it will settle the turmoil that’s battling within. 

It doesn’t, and he slowly strokes his dick even while wincing because he knows this is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this at school, not with twenty or so guys just ten feet away, and most definitely not following a shower that was mostly spent staring at another guy’s naked form. No, this is against everything he knows. It’s dirty and sacrilege. His mama would cry if she knew he was doing this. His pastor would assign him a hundred Hail Marys for his sin, and everyone around school would deprive him of the position he’s happily carried for four years.

Still, his hand glides over his shaft, and somehow the unrest of these bad, wrong, so very very wrong thoughts are increasing all the sensations. The muscles in his legs tighten as he strokes faster, grips his dick tighter. He bites his lip to avoid making any noise, and rests his other hand against the back wall so he can stay as upright as possible, even when his body wants to drop to the ground. His mind still flashes those shots of Jensen’s strong thighs, the tight curve of his ass, the sharp bend of his lower back … then it trips over to thoughts of Jared’s own hands on that skin. Touching, kneading, biting, scratching. He imagines every second he could have of Jensen’s body in his grip. 

And with those pictures spinning around in his head, his hand quickens its pace and he jacks off unbelievably fast until he’s stifling groans and shooting come right at the toilet. He misses most of the bowl and once he’s caught his breath, he has to wipe the rest up with toilet paper to avoid being far too obscene. 

Jared glances up to the ceiling, blinking maniacally against the shame and building tears. He wraps the towel around his hips again and parts his lips with a hopeful whisper. 

_Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death. Amen._

He breathes deeply, over and over, to catch his breath from praying so quickly and feels a few tears slide down his heated cheeks. He opens his mouth for one last quiet exclamation, “Fuck!”

All through lunch, Jared zones out from conversations around him. A few times, his friends ask him why he looks so dumb and confused, and finally he pulls a book out to distract them—and himself—from the question. He insists he has a test to study for in sixth period, Advanced Bio, so he bows his head to stare at a snapshot of the brain and nervous system that he already knows by heart.

They stare at him and then share glances, but no one bothers him after that. 

In class, he loses any ounce of focus he could possibly drag together at this point. Ms. Rhodes gives him funny looks through European History, and even Danneel points it out, passing a note across the aisle in eighth period College Composition. 

_You don’t look okay._

He sucks in a harsh breath and lets it out, not caring how noisy it sounds. He wonders what okay really means. Right now, okay is definitely not thinking about a guy in the shower, imagining the slippery, bare skin of a dude, and going into the bathroom to masturbate when you can’t keep your dick on its leash.

Jared can’t say any of that, not here anyway. He slowly turns towards Danneel and watches her peek over every few moments. He wonders if there is any way he could tell her what happened without her getting utterly grossed out at any part of that story.

She’s his best friend, the one who listens to him bitch and moan about all of his family obligations, school and basketball priorities, and even lets him whine about his family even when they both know he’s got it pretty good in that department.

Even with all of that going for their friendship, he’s pretty certain there are lines you can’t cross, and talking about his jerking off at the sight of guys in the locker is a strong example of that very line.

“Who’ll say grace?” Mama asks as she neatly folds her hands, fingers firm to the back of her hands.

She’s smiling at Megan and Jared in turn, allowing them to choose. When the room is too silent, for far too long, Jared blurts out, “I’ve got it,” then inhales a huge breath to calm himself. 

Something inside tells him this is another fine step in redemption. That he must honor God from now until this weekend when he can give confession, letting this dirtiest of sins out of his body when he admits it unto God. 

He rattles the words off, lips knowing the shape of every syllable without much effort from his brain. “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Amen.”

A chill slides through him then his muscles relax, as if getting back to basics, to what his life has always been, calms him. He’s immediately drawn to the conversation growing around him, and he looks at his parents, watching his mother’s mouth form words and thoughts, observes his father nodding in between every bite of pork roast, even his sister is paying attention with her fork poised over her plate and ready to scoop up buttery red potatoes. 

“JT, what do you think?” Mama asks.

Jared blinks back to consciousness, realizing that he’s focused so hard on what was happening around him – a reminder that his life has not come to a deadly halt just because of what happened today after gym – he isn’t aware of the actual discussion. 

“Son? You okay?” Papa leans a little forward to catch Jared’s eye, judging and reflecting. On what, Jared has no idea, but certainly some hopes for what it’s _not_ about.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “Was just thinking about school—homework! Work for home!” he corrects, wanting to be avoid even the vaguest thoughts of his day at school. 

“How much do you have?” Mama eyes him in between a few bites, all while he remains silent. 

She’s giving him one of _those_ looks, the ones that say she’s anticipating his answer so she can give him more directives. 

He shrugs, still at a loss for words, afraid if he opens his mouth once more that any details on his day will slip out. 

“Well, you know, you received a few more pamphlets in the mail.”

Now he sighs as he imagines the high stack of college mailers that have been coming his way. They started the middle of last season when he put up 44 points in the rout of Austin North, after the star center sprained an ankle and had to hold down the bench for three quarters.

“We could go through them together?” she offers, but it’s more of a task, really.

“Do I have to?”

“Sometime, eventually, yes,” Papa laughs. He’s smiling but the tone of his voice slides into annoyance. “We can’t have a thousand envelopes all over the house just because you can’t decide where you want to go.”

Jared experiences a strange cross of aggravation at his parents constantly using _we_ when they obviously mean _him_ , and then relief for having a real topic he’s willing to discuss. “About that … I was thinking maybe Alabama, or Louisville.”

“Oh, now, JT,” Mama coos, but it’s far more derisive than it should be. “Why would you want to go so far away from home? Be all on your own? Why not stay closer to home so you can always have us right around the corner, just like your brother.”

“If he went further away, I could steal his room,” Megan mumbles, then smiles, likely glad tonight’s conversation is far away from her side of the table.

“You’re not stealing my room,” Jared insists between gritted teeth. “And maybe I don’t want to stay around here. Maybe I want to go far away and be on my own and have to learn how to do things alone, without you right behind me.”

Silverware lightly clinks against a dish and Jared realizes he’s gone too far. He’s upset his Mama and overtalked, but he’s really not up for apologizing. He takes a steadying breath once he’s noticed his father is also staring at him, awaiting his apology. Instead, Jared rises with his plate in hand, roast half eaten and potatoes only pushed around, and walks towards the kitchen.

Papa clears his throat, but the table stays otherwise quiet. 

Jared stops in the doorway. He refuses to turn around right now; he’d rather escape and pretend the entirety of this day never happened. 

“JT,” Mama says tightly.

He knows what she wants, and he finally gives in. “May I be excused?” After more silence, he adds, “I’m not feeling so well.”

“Obviously,” Papa replies, then clears his throat. “Be sure to wash your dishes then head right upstairs for homework.”

Jared does exactly as he’s told, thankful for the escape from dinner and prying parents. But relief is short lived because now he’s stuck staring at his Western America history book and wondering why in the world drawings of American Indians are making him so sick to his stomach.

On Sunday, Jared follows his parents through the tall, wooden doors that lead into their church. He walks slowly, eyes wildly checking everything around him. He fears the structure will fall down around him with God’s knowledge of what happened this week at school, of what he saw after gym class, of what he _did_ to relieve the situation. The building remains standing, even as he dips his hands in the small dish of holy water, and does the sign of the cross before fully entering the large chapel.

A handful of parishioners are seated in pews to start their morning’s _right_. Others are joined near the altar to prepare for mass, and his parents join them to gather up hymnals that need to be placed at every seat in every pew. 

Megan heads down the main aisle then whispers after him, her sleek ponytail flipping over her shoulders when she makes a face at him. “What’re you doing creepo? Just gonna stand there drooling on yourself?”

Jared snaps to attention and decides that instead of helping his parents this morning, he will help himself. He turns to the left and follows the side walkway to the two confessional booths that surround the priest’s compartment. A small light burns above the left side, so Jared takes a deep breath, reaches for the handle, and opens the right door. He stares at the bench facing the closed off screen and decides he must clear his conscience before he dares to get through Sunday church surrounded by family and friends. 

Once inside, he locks the door, flips the switch for the occupied light, and kneels to the bench. His elbows rest on the narrow ledge below the screen, and he does his best to not relive that day, even when he will need to admit to it all here and now. 

The screen slides open and Jared holds his breath until he hears the priest’s opening lines. “Welcome to the Lord’s house. We honor him in all we do. How may I help you, my child?”

Quickly, Jared rattles off, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Forgive me Father for I have sinned. My last confession was one month ago.”

“And what brings you here today, son?” the priest asks. 

Jared fights trying to suss out that voice. Curiosity is strong and his imagination begins pinning faces of the fatherhood to that voice, but he shakes his head to ignore it all. He’d rather do this with complete anonymity for the both of them. “I had … bad … thoughts, while at school.”

“Bad thoughts about whom?”

“No one, really.” Jared lies, and feels a fresh wave of shame come over him. 

“What were these bad thoughts?”

“It’s not so much what they were, but where … and why.”

“Go on,” the father prompts.

Sucking in a quick shot of air, Jared does his best to reason this without feeling even more guilt about the episode. He considers giving the most innocent explanation, and then looks up to the ceiling of the confessional and reminds himself God has seen it already. “I had dirty thoughts while at school.”

“And what brought about these thoughts? Perhaps we can avoid these temptations in the future.”

He winces with having to answer that question, but really hopes he can follow through on the second part of the priest’s suggestion. “It was gym class, and my friend mentioned stuff a guy and a girl had done together before …”

“How old are you, my son?”

“Seventeen.”

There’s a soft snicker beyond the screen, then the priest speaks quite fondly. “Now, my child … at this age, surely there are many impure thoughts surrounding you. That is perfectly normal. The abnormality is in you and your strength and power to redirect those impulses into good deeds.”

 _So, jerking off in the bathroom probably doesn’t count_ , Jared says to himself then bites the corner of his mouth for thinking so illicitly _during confession_. 

“All of that energy can be used for good,” the priest suggests, “and next time you can think differently about what others are telling you to do.”

Jared sighs quietly, knowing that no one told him to do this. Then again, he’s certain there is no way this confession will proceed with any real meaning if he’s not entirely honest. “It was more than that ... or different, really. Something else happened ....”

“I’m listening.”

“I had … impure thoughts ...”

“About these friends?”

“No,” he says quietly. “About another classmate.” As soon as he’s said it, for all that he has denied it since that very moment, he is now fully, intimately aware of the fact that his body’s reaction was directly from the sight of Jensen in the showers. 

Not only does he feel dirty for having such an immediate, tactile response at school, he is mortified that it was another man.

And that is the hardest fact to recognize, or even say in this hallowed place. 

“Son?” the priest prompts. “Is there more troubling you?”

Yes, very much yes, and yet Jared can’t dare say the words. Instead, he asks, “What will my penance be?”

He’s handed five Our Fathers and ten Hail Marys, along with a long session of reflection as to the kind of person he should be while in the presence of his peers.

The next few days at school skate along, while Jared doesn’t remember much at all. He knows he avoided the showers after gym, stared at people during lunch without contributing much at all, and never turned pages in his textbooks when teachers went over assignments.

At home, he manages to get his homework done, thankful to be left to himself in his bedroom. He plays music to drown out most of his thoughts and knows he has to keep up with school work. If he slips anywhere in any class, a teacher will comment and then it’s not only his friends asking him if he’s _okay_. It’ll be faculty and the Dean and even his parents. 

If he can get through awkward dinners by insisting he’s just tired and stressed and nervous about tests, especially the upcoming ACTs, then he’ll keep lying to his parents. No matter how bad it feels, how it only adds another layer of guilt on his conscience. 

He glances at the clock every so often to log the half hours that pass between working out Calculus problems, reading a European History chapter on Mussolini, and finally moving onto his Advanced Placement Biology book. The syllabus reminds him where they’re at in the course, of what pages to reassess before preparing his lab book. And that’s where he loses his concentration. 

There is a cross section of a male body illustrating the circulatory system. It’s just a drawing, perfectly shaped as a human, with threads of red veins and arteries running throughout. 

It’s just a drawing, yet Jared can clearly spot the loose hanging dick. It’s not sexy in any manner to look at. Still, he looks at it and thinks about his own, and then considers the tiny flashes he has seen in the locker room after gym class or practice. 

It reminds him of being a kid and first discovering his body, thinking other penises were funny-looking, even when he had one himself. For the last four years of high school, he has considered himself amused at the sight of someone else’s dick. Sometimes, he’d compare it in his head, and he generally knows who in the locker room is bigger than others. A few on the team would rag on Tahmoh, saying he has to hurt his girlfriend, Katie, on a regular basis. Tahmoh always replied with a lopsided smile, saying _if you only knew what she could handle_.

Now, images of Tahmoh and Aldis and Matt flash through his head. He feels awkward thinking of his friends this way, and yet he is also thankful nothing else comes to mind. His body isn’t reacting much at all, besides a small tilt of dizziness from staring at his book without focus.

Jared even looks down at his lap to judge his dick. It doesn’t react at all when Jared imagines his teammates in the shower and fucking around, not caring that there are no walls enclosing them on all sides. Some toss bars of soap at each other, pelting wet skin with the hard mound, and others slap damp towels at asses. Just guys horsing around together when they’re alone without a single adult or female around to yell at them for their language and hijinks.

He smiles down at his dick, glad it’s stayed completely soft. Maybe even proud and relieved that it doesn’t affect him. Smugly, he tells himself the shower incident and watching Jensen had been a total fluke, just a seventeen-year-old boy unable to control his hormones. 

Of course, this is when he’s fully betrayed and his mind replays fragments of that day. Flashes of Jensen’s bare shoulders, the strength in his upper back as he moved and flexed. The slimness of his waist, which leads the way to his small, yet pert ass. Jared sees trails of bubbles slipping down Jensen’s skin, disappearing under the curve of Jensen’s cheeks, or around his hips and to parts unknown.

Jared knocks his elbows on his desk and buries his face in his hands. Breathing roughly does him no favors because hot air fills his hands, and he’s now sucking in that same air and going dizzy. He brings his hands down to his neck and slightly squeezes. Now he can feel his pulse, the carotid artery bumping through his skin. As he counts the beats, he stares at the drawing in his book and visualizes his own blooding pumping through his entire body and the path each blood cell takes. 

It relieves the nausea a bit to think of something else, but then he’s mad at himself for needing misdirection. That prompts visions of Jensen all over again, along with Jared’s trip to the bathroom afterwards, and his dick hardens in his sweatpants. He pushes his hands down on it and looks up at his ceiling in hopes something will come to him while staring at white paint. 

Then he thinks about what is beyond the paint and plaster above him until he imagines lifting up through the dark inky sky until he’s up in the clouds and heading for heaven. 

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name …” he chants quickly, hoping prayer and God can save him this time. He’s certainly fighting the temptation; the Lord should acknowledge and reward him for this.

“… Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

Then he breathes as evenly as possible and feels his body cool down. His shoulders loosen and the tension slowly leaves his body. “Thank God,” he sighs. “Seriously, thank you.”

“JT?” Mama asks, knocking on the door and quickly opening it. She glances around the room with narrowed eyes then seems confused to find at him at his desk. “Were you talking to someone in here?”

He blinks and frowns. She’d heard him praying, which would never be a problem, but he doesn’t want to explain why he was. “Just to myself, Mama.”

“Mmkay, if you insist.” She comes into his room and ruffles his hair a bit before sweeping it behind his ear. “My little boy.” With a soft smile, she looks right into his eyes. He fears she’ll see it all … what he was thinking about before she knocked, why he’s so upset and withdrawn lately, who he can’t stop thinking about and how … “Don’t you study too hard now, okay?”

There’s an odd combination of relief and sadness for her coasting over anything that could be bothering him. Jared decides to play on the relief and breathe easy for now. He even smiles at her. “Is that permission to get a B once in a while?”

“Never,” she replies with a small smile. “But you’d never disappoint us anyway.”

His smile slips and he slowly nods. “Of course not.”

Mama kisses the top of his head and pats his back before leaving him to the mess laid out before him. Sadly, it’s even bigger than he can wrap his arms around at this moment.

“You okay?” Danneel whispers as they have their desks pulled together in a small group during AP Bio.

The room is filled with noise of another five groups working their way through the human anatomy assignment he’d never completed the other night. After Mama left him alone, Jared spent the rest of the evening in bed, lights off, with the TV on to mindless nighttime dramas that could finally distract him.

There were frequent bouts of guilt for not getting through all of his homework, and a few teachers asked what happened that he, for the first time ever, didn’t turn in his work. But then he relished the free time to just coast and not worry. 

“Jay?” Danneel prompts a bit louder and he belatedly looks at her, lost in thought. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course” he answers automatically, “why?”

She frowns and leans closer to his desk to avoid being overheard. “Because you’re not really participating. You haven’t all week.”

He shrugs and looks at the worksheet on his desk that they’re all referencing to detail each part of the circulatory system. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Maybe just senioritis or something.”

“Well, yeah, okay.”

The tone of her voice makes him face her again; she’s obviously not buying it. “What?”

“I mean, sure, Stephen and Aisha have been ditching for half the year, but …”

He shakes his head, missing her point of bringing them up. “But what?”

“You’re not like that.”

Stephen and Aisha have become inseparable ever since she finally gave up trying to comically beat him up and admitted she’d been obsessed with him for ages. Once Stephen got through to her, they’ve been escaping at least one period a day to make out … somewhere. From all of Stephen’s smirks, it’s probably a different location every day, christening the entire school. Which makes Jared rethink the sanitary conditions in the bio lab. 

Still, the way she’s staring at him, intently assessing him, makes him sweat. “Like what?”

“You always do all your work, never miss a class, never had a tardy. Not before today.” Danneel sets a soft hand over his on the desk. “I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jared stresses … and it sounds exactly like that: stressed. 

“Is everything okay at home?”

“Yeah, home is fine. Same ol’ same ol’,” he darkly chuckles. Last night, his parents fanned out half of his college pamphlets on the dining room table after they’d cleared off Mama’s famous lasagna. He figured it was easier to get the night over with than to fight them, again, on what he really wants to do after graduation.

“Basketball?”

He rolls his eyes at her, because the team remains undefeated halfway through the season and Jared is the team’s leading scorer. Even with all the drama of the last week, he’s been on automatic, focused solely on the basket whenever he’s on the hardwood floor.

“Is there a girl?”

“No,” he says immediately then winces at how high and awkward it is to his ears. 

Danneel leans back a few inches with wide eyes. “ _Okayyyy_ , so no girl.”

“And so what if there isn’t? It’s not like I need to be all paired up and making out in Home Ec or at the lunch table like dumbass Amell. I can be on my own for a while, can’t I?”

“Yeah, of course, Jared,” she says gently, with a strong, caring warmth in her eyes. “I just want to see you be happy.”

Something turns inside his brain, like a switch being flipped, the tides turning, or some other terrible cliché. 

_What if my friends don’t care that I … might be … could be … may be … interested in guys?_

Then Jared’s heart stops and he widens his eyes in horror, fearing that his best friend can read his mind. 

“What?” she asks while staring right back at him. 

He just watches her, sees how those deep brown eyes move to take in his entire face. How that tell-tale crinkle of confusion twists between her eyebrows. How she bites at the corner of her mouth like she’s fighting to say something.

She doesn’t. And neither does Jared for the rest of the period, even staying silent as the group polls each other for the right answers. He gives short nods or a minor shake of his head in agreement or dissent, and is thankful when Mr. Michaels ends the activity and hands out the next assignment.

Jared’s packing up his bag as the bell rings, but he stays in his seat when Danneel slips a note onto his desk then hurries on to her next class. 

In her flowery script, it reads: _See Ms. Smith in counseling_. He hangs his head in defeat to know he couldn’t assure her everything was okay. 

He figures it’s only fair; he hasn’t been able to convince himself either.

It takes another week for Jared to listen to Danneel’s suggestion.

Jared paces a few feet in front of the counseling office. After school, the Dean’s Hall is empty. It’s not like many students are in this area any other time of day, at least not willingly. 

The door is closed, but a sign hangs off a nail pounded into the wood frame. _Step right in!_ it declares in a funky block font, which should be encouraging and fun. Jared feels exactly the opposite.

He sets his hand around the door knob then steps away when a door down the hall swings open and a few teachers head in the opposite direction. 

Jared shakes his head, then his shoulders and arms to relax. He closes his fingers around the knob again and finally turns it to open the door. The wood creaks on noisy hinges and Jared closes his eyes as he enters.

“Hey, Tie guy,” someone says and Jared’s surprised to see Jensen looking right at him. 

“Huh?”

“Tie guy,” Jensen repeats with a small smile. 

Jared’s hand lands on his chest, as if searching for a tie to hold. “Uh, yeah, except no tie today.”

Jensen waves off the point with a quick flick of his fingers on the countertop. “Eh, it’s a nickname and it’s stuck already.”

“Yeah, alright.” Jared sighs and searches the area for anyone other than Jensen to talk to, but the brightly sun-light office is empty aside from the two of them. 

“What can I help you with?”

He clears his throat and wills his mouth to work enough to ask for something simple without giving anything else away. “I was hoping to talk to Ms. Smith?”

“Sam’s not here right now.”

Jared stares at Jensen for the ease of using a teacher’s first name. “You call her Sam?”

Jensen shrugs and leans further on the counter. “She asked us to.”

“Who’s us?”

“The student counselors.” He quickly stands up and tugs a lanyard into view; Jared hadn’t noticed the rainbow strand hanging from his neck. Now the badge is readable and pronounces Jensen to be just as he said. 

Dumbly, Jared asks, “You are a student counselor?”

“I think so?” Jensen sounds even more confused than Jared, before his tiny smirk belies the whole farce. Even as he brings the ID badge up to his eyes, nearly touching his nose and forehead as he reads the words slowly. “Holy shit. Jensen Ackles. Student Counselor. Three stars.”

Jared rolls his eyes, all while fighting a smile at Jensen’s playfulness. “What are the stars for?”

“Semesters we’ve served. Another few weeks and I’ll get my fourth.”

Surprisingly, Jensen sounds proud of the fact and Jared mentions such. “Really?”

“Why not?” Jensen shrugs, but still looks rather amused and happy about the situation. “Everyone needs someone to talk to, and if I can be one of those folks, then we’re all the better for it.”

“Yeah, true,” Jared mumbles. His sight glazes over as he stares at Jensen’s badge and feels utter defeat for his trip down to Ms. Smith’s office. There’s no way he’ll tell another student what’s on his mind. Not to mention _this one_.

“So, you need one of those folks?”

He quickly focuses on Jensen’s face and reads great sincerity in his features. Still, fresh sweat breaks out at his temples and all along his hairline. He needs to get out of here and fast. “When will she be back?”

“She’s gone for the day. But, seriously, it’s perfectly okay if you need to talk. I’m sworn to secrecy here.” Jensen even lifts his palm in the air like an oath. “All words spoken within these walls remain your own.”

“I don’t … I don’t know,” he mutters while shifting in place. “I didn’t … I just really wanted to talk to Ms. Smith.”

Jensen smiles warmly, maybe just to settle Jared’s nerves. “Yeah, she’s the best, huh?”

“I can come back tomorrow.” As Jared stumbles a few steps to get to the door, Jensen comes around the counter and reaches for Jared’s arm while insisting _it’s all okay_. Only, it isn’t, and Jared can’t tell him why. All he can do is roughly shake Jensen’s arm away and yell, “No, it’s not okay!”

Lifting both palms up in surrender, Jensen walks back a few feet for distance. “Okay, alright, I got it, you don’t want to be touched. It’s okay.”

“Stop saying _okay_ , okay?” Jared’s voice breaks, fear ravaging him and his eyes burning with tears. “It’s not okay, and I’m not okay, and I won’t be okay. Not now or ever again. And I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

He breathes heavily, emotionally, as he feels a new bout of humiliation cover him. He can’t believe he’s said these words, let alone to Jensen Ackles. 

Jensen moves in closer, yet remains a safe distance away. He tucks his hands together at his chest and drops his voice low in comfort and support. “I don’t think a lot of us know who we are. Not yet anyway.”

Jared sniffles and presses his thumb and forefinger against his eyes to stop any tears from breaking free. He doesn’t move. Can’t right now, especially with Jensen’s low voice continuing to soothe his worries.

“Not when we have all this stress on us. Not when we have so many assholes telling us who to be and what to be.”

Jared remains quiet, then nods, all while refusing to look anywhere other than at his feet. It’s all so very true, far beyond his own crisis of wondering what happened that one fateful day after gym, of what anyone will think of him if it were to happen again … and again … and again. Which he can’t stop considering, both in horror and delight. 

“Hey, what’s your name?” Jensen asks with a bit of humor. “I don’t even know what your real name is.”

“Jared,” he mumbles. 

“Jared? I’m Jensen,” he says pointlessly, and even more pointlessly motions with his ID badge. “And I’m a student counselor. Almost four semesters now.”

He manages to crack a smile at Jensen’s dopey tone of voice and silly comments. “Almost,” Jared points out. 

“Yeah, almost. But I still kind of know what I’m doing … if you find you need to open up. Maybe it’ll help that I’m not one of your friends, that we’ve only just met.”

“We’ve met before,” he murmurs, daring to meet Jensen’s wide, hopeful, warm green eyes. 

“Not really.” Jensen shrugs and tips his head. “You were just tie guy and I was the one in the flannel who hated Homecoming.”

“So you don’t hate Homecoming anymore?”

Jensen playfully sighs. “Oh, I definitely still hate that shit. Just, now I have lot more layers and colors to me.”

 _Colors_ , Jared thinks, and now the rainbow band on Jensen’s lanyard is the most obvious thing about him. 

He must realize what’s attracted Jared’s attention, because Jensen runs a thumb along the cord. “This thing is … yeah, it’s the real thing.”

“It’s a real rainbow?” Jared asks, slowly cracking a smile along with the joke. 

“Oh, looks who’s funny now.” Jensen smirks then settles into a friendly look and tone. “But yeah, it’s a rainbow that stands for something real.” 

Jared blinks a few times then his brain goes nearly blank. He’d always heard things about Jensen, most everyone in school has, but to hear it confirmed is another thing. Especially when Jared is worrying over his own sexuality. 

“If that bothers you,” Jensen says a little awkwardly, maybe even annoyed, “you can always talk to someone else.”

“Why would it bother me?” Jared asks, still testing how he feels about Jensen and homosexuality, because, Jesus Christ, this is the first time he’s _really_ thinking about it. All while staring at Jensen who’s just outed himself to Jared. 

“Not everyone likes a fag.”

Jared flinches and falls a step back, knees going soft. Is that what he is? Is that what everyone will call him?

Jensen’s eyebrows flit up in question and Jared swallows hard. 

“I think I’ll just come back tomorrow,” Jared finally says.

“Yeah, cool,” he says quickly. “Sam will help you out then.”

Jared nods and fumbles his way back into the quiet hallway, where he’s alone to a whole new set of thoughts.

That night, he’s silent through all of dinner as he thinks about his stop at Ms. Smith’s office. He had every intention to sit across from her and confess to all the fears wracking his brain. To admit that he masturbated in the locker room, that he did it just after showering with a dozen men, and most especially that he thinks it’s tied specifically to a guy and not the images of heterosexual sex, like he’d fought hard to convince himself.

Megan talks rapidly about her science project – something about tracking fruit flies and gestation periods – and their parents ask question after question to hear all about it. Jared can’t think clearly enough to listen to the conversation, let alone to contribute to it, and he remains focused on his green beans and chicken breast. 

Even that – chicken _breast_ \- makes him sigh. He remembers being a little runt with Jeff about age eleven, and they would snicker together every time their mama or papa mentioned chicken breasts, like it was the most secret, most hilarious joke ever told. Now, it means nothing. It creates zero response when Jared pokes his fork at the curve of meat and slowly punctures the seasoned skin. 

“JT?” That’s Mama calling for him, but he remains closed off and content for his own silence.

“Son?” And his father prodding him to speak up because his mama asked him a question.

“Are you gonna eat your biscuit?”

It’s his sister who breaks his concentration, and when she reaches for the lone, untouched biscuit on his plate, he stabs the center of it with his fork, nailing it to the plate. In the quiet, he slowly picks his head up while bringing the biscuit up so he can pull it off the fork tines. Then he mumbles, “It’s my biscuit.”

“JT, what’s wrong?”

“Son, you okay?”

He now meets Mama’s gaze and quietly points out, “It’s Jared.”

“I don’t …” she trails off while shaking her head.

“I don’t like JT,” Jared admits … it’s a small concession but it’s the first one in a long while. The first of many to come over the next year, though he doesn’t know that yet. 

Mama snickers. “I’ve always called you JT. And I always will.”

As plainly as possible, because he doesn’t intend to fight, he says, “I don’t like it anymore.”

“Since when?”

Jared shrugs, looks around the table, unsurprised all three of them are staring at him and waiting on his every word. “For a little while.”

“Son, are you feeling okay?” Papa reaches over to touch Jared’s forehead, and he lets him, just to avoid making this moment even weirder than he’s already let it be. “He feels warm,” Papa tells Mama, and Jared decides this is the best time to excuse himself. 

“Are you okay?” Mama asks, eyes wide with worry.

Jared shrugs and rises with his plate in hand. “I’m not feeling so great. If you don’t mind, I’m just going to go to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for their response, knowing that on any other day, they would insist he finish his plate first. The JT-Jared debate is enough to unsettle them, apparently, and he uses the silence to leave the table, clear his plate and leave it in the sink, and then head up to his room where he stretches out on his stomach and stuffs his face into his pillow. 

There are no real thoughts bringing him peace. Everything is a jumble of fears and delight and worries and smiles … a whole new side to him sliding itself under the door and he’s not certain he can accept what it all really means. 

Doubt and anxiety wracks his brain for most of the night, and he hardly sleeps. Jared does little more than toss and turn throughout the night, and he’s a walking zombie in the morning. In the kitchen, Mama sets the back of her hand against his forehead and cheek, frowns before kissing his cheek, and says she hopes he’s not getting sick. 

Megan grants him a moment of care when she sadly smiles at him and offers, “Maybe you have too much going on right now?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he answers quietly across the kitchen table. He slowly munches on a banana nut muffin and sips on orange juice, but knows he’d rather just go back to bed and waste the day away under the covers. He seeks his own cocoon where no one and no single thing is awaiting him to show up as the bright, youthful, perfect Jared he’s always been. 

For a minute, he wagers the repercussions to staying home from school today. He is certain Mama would let him, with her over-protective side leaking out to shroud him in love and warmth so her baby boy isn’t suffering too long. And yet … he flashes back to yesterday afternoon in Ms. Smith’s office. Even as the thoughts of Jensen now make him wince, he hopes he can confide in Ms. Smith and prays he can finally speak with her today. 

That, alone, is the reason Jared bothers to leave the house and walk to school.


	3. Chapter 3

The office is just the same as the day before, yet somehow appears brighter in the morning hours. Jared can swear there is a spotlight overhead calling him out. For ditching his first period, for being at the counselor’s office when he’s led nothing but a good life, for harboring great fears about himself that no one should ever speak aloud …

The same sign hangs at the main door and Jared again takes his time entering the office. This time, there is no student counselor manning the desk, but there is a half-page sign on the surface with Lucy from Peanuts leaning against a psychiatry booth declaring _THE DOCTOR IS IN_. Jared sits in an arm chair against the wall and smiles as he takes in Lucy’s boredom, waiting for a patient. He wonders if Ms. Smith sits just like that throughout the day, or if she’s thoroughly busy every period. There could be any number of students needing an objective ear, hiding illicit secrets, escaping their lives in the face of something new. For the first time in a long, long, _long_ time, Jared feels like any other kid in this school who is struggling with who they are.

At half past the hour, a side door opens with Ms. Smith leading a young girl out, maybe a sophomore, or even younger. Jared sits up straight as she spots her splotchy cheeks and tear-rimmed eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses. Ms. Smith rubs the girl’s back as she motions her towards the door and promises things will be okay.

Jared watches the girl leave then turns to Ms. Smith standing just before him with her hands perfectly folded together near her waist. Her bright blonde hair is draped to the back of her neck in a whispy bun that adds a touch of delicacy to the straight lines of her perfectly-ironed blouse that’s tucked into a tight pencil skirt. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” she asks warmly, and Jared is eased for a few seconds. 

His fingers tighten around the arm rests as he feels the words coming up. He bounces his knee a few times, then sets his hands over his thighs to keep them steady. “I think I need to talk to someone?”

She smirks without attitude, just a hint of amusement and care. “Are you asking if you do?”

“No, no,” he quickly insists. “I do. I really do.”

She smiles softly then motions him to follow her. “Okay, come along.” Her office is dim compared to the outer lounge area. Only a few of the overhead lights are switched on, and the blinds are turned upward to allow some light in without being obnoxious in a student’s face as the other chair is angled towards the windows. 

Jared checks out the room in its entirety, which is not much bigger than his parents’ walk-in closet, and admires the colorful artwork on the walls. Each piece is a crude estimation of shapes and colors every child learns in pre-school, adding a dreamy quality to the space. 

Ms. Smith clears her throat and holds a clipboard out towards Jared. “Before we begin, I’ll need you to fill out this form.”

He leans back from the papers like they’re on fire. As if this will allow him to pretend the papers asking for him to identify himself are not there. He doesn’t want his name written down for this visit, let alone the subject of his anxiety. “What kind of form?”

“Just administrative forms to verify your visit. I keep these files on all of the students I see.”

His stomach sinks and he thinks about a folder holding all of Ms. Smith’s thoughts on what he has to say … even worse, that other students – namely Student Counselor Jensen Ackles – will be within the same walls as these folders. Jared holds tight to the backpack strap at his shoulder, sweat building in his palm and making it hard to hang on. “What kind of files?”

“Typical counselor stuff,” she attempts to ease, but at this point, nothing will make Jared feel comfortable about any part of this. “The dates and times of your visits. Major concerns over your mental, or physical, health. Progress throughout your treatment.”

_Treatment_. 

He steps back immediately and sputters out a response. “What? Like you think I’m sick?”

Ms. Smith’s eyes widen briefly before she settles into a calm demeanor and lets her hand slowly move through the air. “Why do you think that?”

“Are you a real doctor?” he asks to deflect his real concerns over the paperwork. 

She playfully smiles and shrugs. “No, but I play a mean one on TV.” When Jared isn’t eased by her joke, she sits down in her large arm chair with the clipboard in her lap, arms folded over it to hide the paperwork. “I am certified by the State of Texas and the State Board of Education as a child and young adult counselor. Between Austin South and North, as well as the county’s junior highs, I see hundreds of students per year. All with a wide range of needs.”

Jared watches her carefully, observes how she’s looking right back with soft eyes that eventually ease the tension keeping his shoulders up high. 

“Some students just want someone to listen to them, some need help planning out their future and managing stress along the way, others have big ticket concerns about their lives. That’s especially common in the older kids, when they have to think about moving into something new and changing their world all around.”

He gulps at the last example. Even as he’s sure she means seniors who are afraid to move away from home and do something on their own, it definitely applies to him for a whole other matter.

“So, now, the question would be … what kind of help do you need?”

“Probably …” Jared sighs, takes his time to release the air and tension stiffening his bones. “All of the above.”

Ms. Smith smiles sweetly and motions at the chair across from her. “Then take a seat and let’s get started.” She walks him through the form and it appears far less as imposing as he’d imagined. She needs his contact and personal information, along with future plans for college – University of Texas A&M – along with his major – engineering – and a handful of other facts for where he currently is in life. 

After the forms are complete, she sets the clipboard on a short table beside her, crosses one leg over the other at the knee, and clasps her hands together in her lap. With a thin, yet easy smile, she considers Jared for a few silent seconds. Just as Jared opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, her smile curves upward. “Jensen told me you stopped by yesterday. Is everything okay?”

He cringes at Jensen telling her … at Jensen being mentioned … and at that question. He’s been asked it far too often lately, so he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What does okay really mean, anyway?”

“What do you think it means?”

With a shrug, he looks just over her shoulder and out the window. The center quad is just beyond the glass with a well-manicured lawn and bright white cement sidewalks crisscrossing between buildings. It’s also completely empty and he feels a blip of security inch back in before biting his lip as he really considers her question. “I guess it’s for people who aren’t doing all that great or doing all that bad.”

“What do you mean?”

Another shrug and Jared turns his gaze to a spot over her other shoulder, tries to appear like he’s actually connected to her and her questions, even when they’re unsettling him all over. “Just … middle of the road. Average. Standing still.”

“Do you think you’re standing still?”

_I think I’m at a fork in the road and I’m terrified of both directions_. 

She patiently waits for his answer, her held pose and the slight tilt of her head showing her interest in what he has to say. He meets her eyes and thinks over that for a while, stretching the silence out, but he’s so busy with his thoughts that it doesn’t bother him this time. 

Seems like a lot of people have been asking him if he’s okay lately, and quite a few of them have stared at him waiting for an answer that he can’t string together. This is the first time it’s nonthreatening or lacking judgment. 

Jared takes a deep breath and answers her head on. “I think that I don’t know where to go. I know where everyone wants me to go, but maybe I don’t want to go that way.”

“Is this about school?”

“Everything,” he admits quietly. “I’ve always done what was given to me, told to me, or expected. What if I want to try something new?”

He winces immediately. He hadn’t meant it for anything other than expanding his horizons for something _Jared_ wants instead of what has been listed out for _JT_ for years. But now the idea buzzes in his stomach, spins around in his head, and he thinks … _yeah, what if I do want to try something … someone … new?_

Ms. Smith nods with that same gentle smile in place, like she hears every word that goes unsaid and understands every bit of meaning beneath Jared’s answers – and it is perfectly acceptable. “What kind of things would you like to try?”

There’s no way he can say the immediate answer, so he thinks on it while biting the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know … just, something different.”

She nods again and shifts in her seat for a pale blue post-it note pad. With a thick, fancy, gold pen, she scribbles a place and time then hands it over to him. “I think this will be a great place to start.”

_ROOM F120. 3:00 PM_

Jared flicks the pads of his fingers at the adhesive so it catches on his skin then slowly releases. He knows that F Hall is for fine arts and there are a number of lectures and seminars given after class by any of the quirky, talented teachers who roam those halls. He hasn’t taken an art class since eighth grade; he always made too much of a mess of his clothes, hair, and other students to ever attempt it as a voluntary cause. 

“Just give it a shot,” Ms. Smith needles. “You never know what you’ll get out of it.”

“And what is it?” he asks slowly.

“A chance for something different.”

Nodding, Jared thinks it’s not too bad an idea. He even offers her a tiny smile as thanks and folds the post-it with straight edges before storing it in his back pocket. It’s slim and takes barely two inches of space in his pocket, but it feels like a package on his doorstep waiting to be opened.

Jared runs his thumb over the rounded letters of Ms. Smith’s note and looks back through open doorway. F120 is a fine arts room, definitely, but there is no class or exhibit going on. Twenty short easels are set with work tables scattered throughout the space. A few hold artwork that must be waiting to dry before being claimed, but most of the pieces are hung on every bit of space on the four walls of the room. Jared leans in just a bit, not allowing his toes to cross the threshold, yet admires the expanse of creativity even as he fears the biggest elephant in the room.

Jensen.

The guy is hunched over a table, back a fine curve, and he’s scribbling in a notebook. The page is nearly all black as Jensen creates looping lines of white space. His lines are precise and sliver-thin, and Jared can’t believe Jensen is arting with such a fine-tipped marker. 

More unbelievable is when Jensen glances up, does a double take between his notebook and the door, and then softly smiles. “Hey, Jared.”

Butterflies come to life in Jared’s stomach and the baby blue post-it in his hands is crumpled into a tiny ball as he considers what that fluttering really means. “Hey, Jensen,” he returns in a softer, flatter tone.

“Everything okay?”

Jared winces, just like he did in Ms. Smith’s office, or when others have asked him just that over the last week. He wipes his nose in agitation and plays with the balled up note. “Ms. Smith told me to come by F120 after school? Maybe I misunderstood?”

“No, you’re good,” Jensen insists. He rises and repositions a few items on the work table so there’s another sketch book and a handful of colored markers, fatter than the one Jensen tucks behind his ear. “She said she had someone I should meet … guess she didn’t realize we’d already met.” 

“Guess not,” he mumbles.

“You can come in.” Smirking, Jensen lifts his hands in the air. “I promise there are no tests or homework.”

Jared slowly makes his way into the room, stopping short of the table while holding tight to his backpack’s straps. “What is this?”

“Just a little hang out? Sometimes Ms. Smith asks me to show students some creative things. Maybe to get their juices flowing …” Jensen stops to inspect Jared, from head to toe and back up again, then he attempts to hide a frown that Jared spots instantly. “Or to work out a few things if they need to.”

“You think I have to work out a few things,” Jared says more than asks. 

Jensen continues smiling as he sits back on his stool, yet it’s an easier, less obvious motion. “Just an educated guess. You were pretty shaken up yesterday when you tried to see Ms. Smith.”

He thinks about it for few a quiet moments, all while Jensen flips through his sketchbook, passing dozens of black line art that Jared can’t dissect, but he can tell it’s all quite good. Finally, Jared sits down at the stool across the way so that the table is firmly between them and he can ease into this exercise. “What kinds of stuff do you do with the students?”

“Just talk and draw and shit.” Jensen pulls the market from behind his ear and twirls it between the fingers of one hand. “I can teach you a few things if you’re interested?”

Jared shifts on the stool, stretches his neck out, and does his best to ignore the quick spring of heat in his body. Maybe it’s what Jensen said, or maybe it’s just Jensen, period. “Like what?”

“What do you want to draw? A cat? Dog? You play basketball … what about something there?”

Quickly shaking his head, Jared grabs the green marker set by the second sketchbook just so he has something to do with his hands other than wring them together. “No, not that.”

Jensen nudges the extra book a few inches closer to Jared and flips the cover open to the first blank page. “Okay, what about cartoon characters? Or flowers, or even just some shapes?”

Even with the cap still on the marker, Jared drags it over the corner of the sketch book paper. He bites his lip as he considers what to say just so Jensen will stop asking a thousand questions and think Jared’s totally lost his mind.

He just might have.

Thankfully, there’s the noise of a throat clearing at the door, and Jared turns to Mr. Omundson standing in the hall and checking on them. “You boys getting up to trouble here?”

“No, sir,” Jensen responds. “Just a little work.”

Mr. Omundson hums while stroking the edge of his full beard. “I see people hardly working when they should be working hard.”

Jensen chuckles and Jared narrows his eyes, trying to hide the odd face he wants to make. “Of course, sir.”

“My father was sir. You can just call me Lord Omundson.”

Jared looks over his shoulder to find Jensen grinning at the A/V instructor, and now he can furrow his brows so Jensen sees that he thinks this whole thing is weird. 

“Yes, my Lord,” Jensen responds even while looking right at Jared.

“That’s more like it,” Mr. Omundson replies. “Have a good afternoon, boys.”

When the teacher’s footsteps grow quiet, Jared lifts his eyebrows and points his green marker towards the door. “And what was that?”

Jensen lowers his head and chuckles. “Just Mr. Omundson being himself.”

“He’s always like that?”

“Every day, near abouts. He’s a funny dude.” He taps his black pen against his lips, drawing Jared’s attention to the plump lower lip, which sets a chill through Jared’s body. “Actually, just yesterday, he insisted I call him sir. So, I guess he’s progressing.”

Jared drops his sights to Jensen’s chest to avoid seeing his mouth, or his eyes, or all the tiny freckles that fill his cheeks and nose – tiny golden dots Jared had never seen before, not when they’d kept more distance between them. He now focuses on the rainbow strand of Jensen’s lanyard and swallows hard. “Your badge,” he prompts.

“Yeah?”

“And the … the string.” He swallows down another thick lump in his throat, but then his mouth is completely dry. Still, he knows he can’t start this topic and then let it drop without drawing serious questions about his mental state. “Yesterday, you said it was real. The rainbow, it was real?”

“Yeah, it is,” Jensen answers swiftly. “The rainbow is a symbol of my people.”

Jared’s heartbeat thumps loudly in his ears to have the confirmation once again. His pulse is harsh and it echoes, but then his breathing sounds even heavier as he fights to ask the question. His vision is watery and he won’t dare blink or else tears will fall. “And what people is that?”

“The leprechauns.”

Immediately, Jensen has Jared’s full attention and they’re staring at one another until Jensen’s lips widen in a bright, toothpaste commercial worthy smile. 

“You know, little wee guys who get gold at the end of the rainbows?”

There’s no real response here, so Jared chuckles. And then laughs. And finds himself crying with the sudden change in emotion, tears spilling down quickly as he loses his breath from laughing so hard. 

Jensen ends up laughing as well – more likely _at_ than with Jared – then shows a lopsided smile when Jared’s come down from his laughing spell. “Never had such a great reaction to a joke.”

“I don’t know,” he huffs while catching his breath and wiping moisture away from his eyes, “it just came out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, I guess it did. Kind of like me.”

Jared can feel his face freeze and he’s amazed by Jensen’s frankness. The reckless abandon to say such a thing and not show an ounce of regret. 

“If that’s what you were getting to, with the rainbow and all.”

“Yeah,” Jared admits with a heavy nod. Then quickly adds, “But not in a bad way or anything. I was just curious.”

“That’s cool.” Jensen spins on his stool to grab a handful of markers then picks up the ones by Jared’s sketchbook. He uncaps one, draws a clear blue arc, caps it, and tucks it into his left hand before grabbing the red, yellow, and a handful of other colors. He traces identical, successive arcs to form a rainbow at the corner of the page his sketchbook is open to. As he does it, he speaks quickly with a light voice, like he’s leading a class of young kids. “You know that a perfect rainbow is created by Newton’s sevenfold of ROY G BIV. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.”

He looks to Jared with crinkled eyebrows and tiny lines creasing the sides of his eyes. Jared searches Jensen’s face for a hint as to what else he’s supposed to do or say. The answer isn’t there, but it is in the one empty ring of the rainbow. Of the seven colors, only green is missing and Jared has that marker still in his hand, giving him something to play with. He fights holding onto it, then recognizes that’s more foolish than just letting Jensen have it. 

Jensen smiles when he takes the green marker then fills in the blank spot of his perfectly arced rainbow. “Rainbows are an optical illusion between water and the sun just after a storm.” He traces the edges of the rainbow with his thin black marker, dragging the corners out for extra effect. “I like to think that’s exactly how it is to come out … to find the light in life after the storm.”

It’s fascinating to take in the calm of Jensen’s voice as he explains it. To see the set angle of his brow as he draws, and to have this quiet moment where Jensen is thoughtful. “Is that how it was for you?”

Slowly, Jensen nods. He sets his elbows on the table, threading his fingers together and tapping his pinkies on the desktop as he looks at Jared. _Really_ looks at him. “It’s a really dark storm to go through, to know what you really are and knowing that it’s alright, that it’s safe and fair to be true to yourself. But once I let go of that, and found people who cared about who I was, and not _what_ I was … it’s been nothing but bright colors since then.”

The words settle heavily in Jared’s mind and now his heart drags so slowly, he wonders if he’ll pass out. His vision blurs and his hearing buzzes for a couple seconds before everything clears up and he’s left staring at the content, comfortable, and accepting look on Jensen’s face. He considers all that he can see of Jensen right now, including the black button up with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, light grey Henley beneath it, a silver chain barely hiding behind the few open buttons of his shirt, and the short sides of his hair, which accentuates the tall, thick tease of his faux hawk. 

Jensen is definitely his own being, has preserved his own style that skates on the edge of popular and outcast without being deemed as one or the other. According to Austin South, Jensen is one of the more popular outcasts, and Jared thinks perhaps Jensen has the best of both worlds. To be known and acknowledged by many while retaining his sense of self. It’s also obvious Jensen is full of thoughtfulness and compassion, from his volunteering as a student counselor and this afternoon right here. It’s a straight contradiction to the smug, mouthy persona he’s shown at the bonfires at Kane’s farm.

Jared finds a lot of words mixing together as he tries to make out the right sentiment to bookend Jensen’s story, but nothing makes sense and Jared’s tongue feels too thick in his mouth to actually say anything aloud.

There’s no need to, however, because his phone chirps with bird noises, which he knows is his 3:30 PM alarm. He needs to get his ass to practice, and fast. 

“Thanks a lot, but I have to go, gonna miss practice,” Jared mumbles as he spins off the stool and hurries into the hall. 

“Hey, Jared!” Jensen calls after him without leaving his seat. Jared is back in the doorway before he realizes he’d turned back into the room. “Any time you want to learn how to draw, I’m around.”

Instantly, Jared feels bright and full, light on his feet with a nervous smile that burns the corners of his cheeks to hold in. He wants to cry out in thanks, joke that he knows where to find Jensen, anything at all. He manages none of that, and winds up saluting Jensen with gratitude before racing down the hall and over to the locker room.

“How was school, JT?” Mama asks as she passes a casserole of macaroni and cheese to Megan.

Even as they’re preoccupied with swapping dishes, and his father is already digging into his pork chop, Jared can feel all eyes on him. 

“It was fine,” he replies, but it comes out like a question.

“How about practice?” Papa asks. His hand is expertly slicing a knife through his meat while his sights stay on Jared. “Everything going okay there?”

Somehow, _okay_ is a trigger for a faster heartbeat and fire filling his veins. He doesn’t want to hear that word anymore, or consider what okay really is when he’s already sorting out the whole issue of really not being okay. Not to his friends or his family, and especially not under the eyes of the Lord.

“JT, your father asked you a question,” Mama prods.

“Yes!” he insists haughtily. “Everything is fine at practice!”

“Sure sounds like it,” Megan mumbles, and Jared glares at her for trying to make it worse. 

“What about at church?” Mama offers. “Maybe you can help out a little with weekend Bible studies?”

He doesn’t want to go anywhere near church right now, and he certainly doesn’t want to give up his weekends for more responsibilities. “Why?”

“To get a little soul back in you.”

Jared narrows his eyes, even as Mama keeps to her plate and fills her fork with macaroni. Does she know about his crisis? Is she insisting all will be well if he just repents to God? He knows what people at church think of people like Jensen … like what Jared thinks he just might really be, and he’s afraid to consider how his parents will walk that line between family and God. “What does that mean?”

“Just … maybe … you could use a little adjustment with your attitude.”

“I don’t have an attitude,” Jared huffs. 

“Well, right now, I’d surely think otherwise.”

The condescension in her words and tone socks him right in the stomach, and he sits forward with anger threading through him. “I don’t have an attitude!” 

“You best think twice before saying that again.”

The ferocity of her voice is matched by the intensity of her stare. Jared’s muscles war, half sinking back in defeat and the rest standing strong to keep him upright, steady, and confident. 

“JT, son,” Papa says slow and firm. “What has been going on with you lately?”

Jared now stares down his father in the silence. His pulse quickens and his knees rattle with nerves. He wants to say something, anything. Tell them that he’s not _okay_ , and there’s nothing wrong with that. Explain to them that maybe he’s not the 100 percent all-American boy they’ve always raised him to be, and it doesn’t make him any less of a good son. 

The words fail him, especially at the dinner table, which has always been a holy place for family dinners and kind conversation. Even if it hasn’t been much lately, he’s not ready to start this saga with them here and now. Especially not now.

He waits until after dinner. 

With his arms full of stacked dishes, he approaches Mama in the kitchen. She spares him a glance, but not much else as she takes the plates from him and loads them into the dishwasher. Jared hovers nearby, waiting for the right moment to speak.

Mama doesn’t grant him that moment, so he make it for himself. “I saw the school counselor today.”

She stays quiet, which only amplifies the tension in the room. 

“I’ve been feeling really stressed and worried lately,” he admits, because while there are bigger hills to climb, he wants her to know _something_ about what’s been going on. In this house, lying by omission is no smaller than outright deceit. “Danneel suggested it.” Maybe mentioning his best friend, and Mama’s favorite girl who isn’t Megan, will soften her. 

Slowly, Mama turns and leans back against the kitchen counter. She wipes her damp hands on a dish towel then continues to twirl the fabric in her hands. Jared can’t tell what kinds of emotions are keeping her quiet, but he’s afraid it’s nothing good. 

“I just thought it couldn’t hurt to talk to someone about how I feel.”

“You could talk to me,” she offers quietly, still hiding any real clue to how she’s taking this. 

“It’s nothing personal. It just helps that Ms. Smith is a totally different part of my life, and I can be open and honest.”

“You can’t be open and honest with your own mama?”

Jared sucks in a breath and wills himself to calm against the passive aggressive voices that want to complain right back at her. “Sometimes, I need to talk about things you wouldn’t understand.”

“Like what?”

He gulps. “Like things I can’t tell you right now.”

Mama’s face softens and now the sadness in her eyes crumbles Jared’s defenses. 

He wants to admit to everything and anything, no matter how true it all is. Tears build in his eyes as he fights for the right words to make it all better. 

“And what about your Papa? You can always talk to him.”

“Not about this …”

“What is this?”

Jared closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and slowly releases through his nose. When he opens his eyes again, her cheeks are wet with slowly falling tears. “I can’t tell you. Not now.”

“Did you do something wrong? Are you in trouble?”

“No,” he says, even when he isn’t so sure. 

“Can Father Thomas help you?” she asks, now pleading as if she’s trying to find him the right answer. 

But Father Thomas is the very wrong person to be brought into this. Jared shakes his head and takes a few steps back, trying to get closer to an exit. “Not right now. Ms. Smith and Jensen are help—”

He halts all movement –his legs, his mouth, even his lungs. Just saying the name brings a fresh wave of nausea and dizziness. 

Slowly, methodically, he rephrases his sentence. “Ms. Smith is helping me out.”

Mama nods so minutely, he could’ve missed it in any other context. But here, he is just as critically assessing her and her reactions as she is him.

Another tense moment passes between them, neither saying another word. Jared finally takes that long-needed exit and heads upstairs to actually do some homework tonight. He feels like he now needs a distraction from his distractions.

“Don’t be afraid!” Jensen calls out while Jared hovers in the doorway to the art room for the second time this week.

Jared is absolutely afraid and there isn’t much that will resolve that any time soon. 

“I don’t bite!”

Jared smiles a little and takes one step forward. He still isn’t sure why he decided to show up again, but he figured it was his best option at the moment: talk to someone who has already driven down this road and has mastered his individuality. 

“Unless you want me to,” Jensen says then cackles like it’s the funniest joke of the year. Once he calms down, he smiles brightly to Jared, face full of warmth. “Okay, okay, it’s a stupid damn joke. I promise it’s safe in here.”

Slowly, Jared makes his way inside and takes the stool across from Jensen. He watches Jensen draw a nearly-perfect bulls-eye, with black and red circles alternating around white space with such precision that Jared would guess it was manufactured if he didn’t witness it. 

“You wanna draw?” Jensen asks without looking up from his work.

“Uh, sure,” Jared replies, because he doesn’t even know what he would attempt. He’s not an artist, and still is completely lost on how to talk to Jensen … especially about all that’s brewing inside.

Jensen continues with his next red ring and doesn’t say anything else. Jared sees the extra sketchbook right at Jensen’s elbow, and considers grabbing it, but is also still mesmerized by Jensen’s accuracy that he doesn’t want to disrupt the silence. 

Once Jensen finishes the circle, he stretches his fingers and looks up to Jared, slowly smiling at him. “You gonna draw or just stare at me?”

“Um, I, uh,” Jared fumbles with words, “didn’t want to distract you.”

“Shit, I’m always distracted,” he laughs. “Don’t let my dumb bulls-eye fool you.”

“It’s cool. You’re really good at this.”

Jensen ducks his head to start the next black circle, his cheeks turning pink. 

Jared frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying something wrong.”

Jensen looks up with his eyes narrowed in confusion. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“But you were, like, embarrassed or something.” Though now, Jared is definitely the embarrassed one. 

Rolling his eyes, Jensen stifles a laugh. “One thing you’ll learn about me is that I’m shit at taking compliments.”

Jared thinks about what that really means … learning about Jensen. It’s thrilling and frightening at once. 

“But thank you,” Jensen says while glancing up at Jared, meeting his eyes for longer than should be appropriate for two teenage boys just … hanging out or whatever this is. Then Jensen focuses back on his sketch when he adds, “I appreciate it. Especially from you.”

He clears his throat and shuffles on the stool with nervous energy. Maybe Jared isn’t so great at receiving compliments either. “What do you mean? From me?”

Jensen shrugs and spins his book ninety degrees to continue the perfect arc of his circle. “Just, you’re not one to get involved in these types of things. So it’s cool if you like it.”

“I do like it,” he replies on automatic, then realizes he means it. As unsettling as it is to be here, he appreciates that it’s not anything _normal_ for him. And given the stress of everything else he’s sorting out about himself, being away from his regular life helps. 

“Good, I’m glad.”

And Jared slowly realizes that he is, too.

Jared is getting his things together at his locker, happy that the final bell has rung and he’ll have a nice break before practice. He’s begun to really appreciate the time he has with Jensen … even beyond it being Jensen. Just having time to do something without expectations has freed a great deal of stress from everything else going on right now.

He’s a terrible artist, can’t draw a circle without making it lopsided, and even his squares are mangled, but he tries and accepts the failure. And that’s more than he’s done before.

After all, Jensen encourages him every step of the way. 

So after nearly three weeks of drawing together, even with very little conversation, he’s starting to finally admit to his friends that something else is happening before practice. 

Matt jumps at Jared’s back just before hitting F Hall, laughing and horsing around. “Dude, where you going?”

Jared shrugs him off. “I have something I have to take care of … for class.”

Matt looks up at the bright blue _F_ painted at the opening to the hallway. “Since when do you take art?”

“Since whenever, moron,” Jared replies instantly with a shove to Matt’s shoulder, like this is nothing new. “I have an art thing going on. I’ll see you at practice.”

“What do you mean an art thing? Since when do you do _art things_?” Matt laughs, which puts Jared on the defense.

“Since now, alright? What’s it matter?”

“Oh, Jare, c’mon,” he whines. “The cheerleaders are finally practicing outside.”

Jared shrugs. “Okay.”

Matt grins. “In uniform.”

He knows exactly what his friends are doing. They’ve been waiting for this day for weeks – have each year – and Jared suddenly realizes he never really cared. He’d go with Matt and Aldis and Stephen, and he’d laugh when the guys catcalled all the cheerleaders and got excited during splits and lifts and whatnot. But he honestly didn’t get anything out of it besides hanging with his friends.

And while that has always been enough, he knows that he has different priorities these days. 

“Go on ahead. I’ll just meet you at practice.”

Matt stands stock still, staring at Jared. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. You’ll be dying when they build their pyramid, and crying about why you can’t be in it. You won’t even notice I’m not there.”

“That’s probably true,” Matt snickers. “But when I need a wingman, I’m coming for you.”

Jared takes the first few steps into F Hall and shakes his head. “You never needed a wingman, and I’m a bad one anyway.”

“That is definitely true!”

He waves off his friend and continues down to the art room, where Jensen is set at a bench with his head bowed to his book. 

“Hey,” Jared offers when Jensen doesn’t look up. “What’re you working on today?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles in return then sits up with a fake smile. Jared’s not sure what it really means that he can already tell that it’s all wrong on Jensen’s face. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. What about with you?”

Jensen takes a big breath before looking up and makes a face. “I don’t know. Just one of those days, you know?”

Jared gulps, feeling bad that Jensen feels bad. He sits down and folds his hands on the table top, unsure of what to really say. He does know what Jensen would offer. “Wanna talk about it?”

They share a look, and Jensen finally chuckles and truthfully smiles. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Because I’m supposed to be helping you.”

He gulps again and flips his hands out. “Well, I can help, too. Maybe.”

Jensen laughs. “Maybe? That’s real comforting.”

Jared drops his head and takes a deep breath. Shame floods him for thinking he could have any impact on Jensen’s life. 

“Hey, I’m just kidding,” Jensen insists right away. “I’d love to have a little help. Even just someone to bounce ideas off of.”

He picks his head up quickly with a hopeful smile. “Yeah, I can do that for sure.”

“So, for my art institute application, I’m supposed to submit a piece with an essay talking about it.”

“Oh, wow, art institute. Okay.”

“What? Is that weird?” Jensen asks with his eyebrows furrowed. 

“No, not at all,” he insists. “Of course you’ll go to art school. That’s exciting.” And he means it, he really does. It just is surprising to hear of someone not going to a traditional university for business or science or something more formal. “Um, so, for your submission, is there a theme or something?”

“ _Inspire_ ,” Jensen says with a mocking toss of his hand. “Like, how fucking vague is that?”

“Well, what inspires you?” Jared sits up and finds himself very interested to know the answer, not just in helping in this moment. “A place? Something that happened in your life?”

Jensen sighs. “I dunno, I guess I could make something up. Like the beach or whatever.”

“What about a person? Your family or a teacher? Someone who makes you think differently about the world? Or inspires you to be better and different and go for what you really want?” Jared slowly recognizes he’s essentially talking about Jensen’s impact on him thus far. “Or why you come here every day? Why you draw or why you want to get better at it?”

“People,” Jensen replies with a tiny, adorable smile. And Jared smiles in return. “I like helping people see different things. In life and in art and just in … everything they do.”

“You definitely do that.” He keeps Jensen’s gaze and nods. “You’ve already done that for me.”

“Then I guess I’ve got somewhere to start.”

And Jared thinks he does, too.


	4. Chapter 4

For the weekend, Jensen invites Jared to hang out – “outside of school, far away from all the typical bull shit we face every day.”

Jared is scared and yet bursting at the seams with excitement to have the opportunity to spend more than forty-five minutes between his final class and practice. 

They meet at Jensen’s house, which isn’t far and appears to be a cookie-cutter two-story just like Jared’s. The colors and furniture are far more modern than anything Jared’s parents have, but it still gives a sense of _home_. 

Meanwhile, Jensen’s room screams _Jensen_ with a mural painted behind the headboard with slashing colors and lines. Jared can’t make out any pattern, yet he sees that it’s all Jensen. The other three walls are packed with rock band posters and sketches Jensen must’ve done himself because they’re all thin-lined markers like he uses at their sessions at school.

Jensen tosses Jared a can of pop then relaxes back on his queen bed. Sitting against the headboard, he flips through a larger sketchbook than those they have at school. “I was thinking about what you said the other day. About my inspiration.” His eyes briefly meet Jared’s before going back to the book. “And I think I want to draw you.”

Jared had been standing at the foot of the bed, but now his knees are wobbly and he drops to the edge of the mattress. “You want to … why me?”

“Because you inspire a lot of people. For a lot of different reasons.”

“I don’t … I don’t,” Jared repeats, completely at a loss for words. Jensen is far less bold than he is at school, speaking softly, carefully, and barely looking at Jared. And it makes Jared feel more introverted than normal.

“Yeah, you do,” Jensen says. He’s looking right at Jared and projecting the seriousness of his words with a steady cadence to his speech. “You’re smart and funny. You’re nice to everyone you talk to. You’re an amazing basketball player and one of the school’s most popular guys. And yet you have your own issues that you deal with beneath the surface, but still get through everything expected of you”

Jared looks down at the can in his hands, spins it around so he can read the entire label instead of responding.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Jensen insists with a chuckle. “But, you inspire a lot of people in school.”

He still won’t look up and now reads the ingredients list. “That doesn’t matter. It should be someone who inspires _you_.”

“You do that, too.”

Now he picks his head up and holds his breath. “What?”

“It takes a lot to step out of your comfort zone. But you did. You came to Sam’s office for help and you’ve been hanging with me. That’s not easy.”

Jared smiles a little. “Yeah, you’re right. Hanging with you isn’t easy.”

Jensen kicks Jared’s knee. “Okay, asshole, you didn’t have to agree with that.”

“But I like it,” he admits. “You’re cool to be around.” There are many other things Jared wants to say about Jensen; he keeps that to himself.

“Yeah, you are, too,” Jensen says with a soft smile. “So, do you think you could be my inspiration and maybe stop being such a spazz so you still for about two hours.”

“Now who’s the asshole?” Jared laughs along with Jensen. 

They spend the next few hours talking and sketching, even watching TV on the large computer monitor in the corner. It’s as natural as any other time Jared’s hung out with Aldis or Stephen, but it’s better. Because there are no preconceived notions to their budding friendship, and Jared feels far more comfortable around Jensen than ever before.

Jensen never mentions the _inspire_ assignment again, but two weeks later it appears in Jared’s locker.

He unfolds the large sketch sheet while Danneel, Stephen, and Aisha waiting on him to head to the gym for tonight’s practice and game. His breath catches and his eyes water at the drawing, and he’s at a loss for words. 

When Danneel asks if he’s ready, she also tugs on the corner of the sheet to see what has him so distracted. 

Jared smiles at her and pulls it out of her fingers. “You guys ready or what?”

“What is that?” she asks, having seen the whole thing. 

He packs it in his bag and marches them forward. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

Jared nudges her hard enough to make her miss a step. “Glad you’ve got eyes, Harris.”

He ignores any other comments or looks she has for him and focuses on the game tonight.

At practice, he knows he’s smiling far more than he usually does while playing, when he typically stays on task and plays hard and serious. During a long run of layups, he misses a few more than average and sighs.

Coach yells for him and Jared’s heart thumps faster in his chest. He jogs to the sidelines and gives Coach a smile with a somewhat easy, “What’s up?”

“You okay, son?”

Jared brings his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You ain’t been fine for weeks.”

He swallows and blinks, trying to think about what to really say, yet all that he thinks about is that sketch in the bottom of his bag, stashed away in the locker room. 

“You were playing like a monster, so I didn’t question it, but you ain’t looking good out there right now.”

“It’s just practice,” Jared offers loftily. 

“Strong practice makes—”

“Strong players,” Jared finishes with Coach. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

Coach eyes him for a long moment then shakes his head. “If you insist. Now pull up your big boy pants and play like the Jared Padalecki we all know.”

Jared clenches his jaw, hating that expectation, yet still nods. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Alright, good boy.” Coach slaps him on the back then turns back to the assistant coach to discuss strategy for tonight.

“How did you know you were gay?”

“Really?” Jensen laughs and shakes his head.

Jared plays with the edge of the sketchbook and retracts any hope that they’ll have a real conversation. “Well, not if you don’t want to answer.”

“It’s not that, just … shit, you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

Jensen nods and nervously smiles, glancing anywhere but at Jared. “Alright, fine, dammit. I was about twelve or something, and my friend stole a porn movie from his brother’s stash.”

“And you didn’t get excited.”

“Oh, I definitely got excited. That fucker shot up like a pistol … but it was all about the dude. I couldn’t stand to look at the girl and her tits, like, sagging and shaking all over while he pounded right into her from behind.”

Jared shifts, adjusting the crotch of his pants, because he’s now imagining the very same scenario but with two guys alone. 

“So there. The illustrious story of how Jensen Ackles knew he was gay.” After a quick laugh, he gestures at Jared. “And what about you?”

Jared widens his eyes in fear and shoves himself back from the table as if backtracking on this whole conversation. “What _about_ me?” His voice breaks, and he clears his throat before adding, “How’d I know I was straight?”

Jensen stares at him, really concentrates on Jared’s eyes, and somehow Jared finds he can’t break away from the intense gaze. 

He sniffs and wipes his nose. Maybe he’s getting sick, maybe some kind of sinus infection, because he suddenly has a headache, his eyes feel big on his face, and his throat is dry and scratchy. 

“Jared.”

“What?” he returns with the same flatness in his voice as Jensen.

“Are you sure?”

Jared isn’t. Most definitely has no concrete answers for this subject, and he knows that once he says it, he can’t take it back.

In lieu of words, his answer comes in lowering his head and dabbing the edge of his marker at one solitary dot in the center of a blank sheet of sketch paper. 

Softly, Jensen asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jared grabs a blue marker and adds a thick dot, covered over and over again with fresh ink, to accompany the red one already on the page. “I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to talk about it … but, I’m here if you need to.”

“I mean, I don’t know if I am or not.” Jensen doesn’t add anything, and Jared fights staying quiet, yet he can’t leave those words to hang alone in the air. “But I think maybe I am … if Ms. Smith wanted me to hang out with you and talk about rainbows.” A pang of guilt sticks in his chest and he quickly looks up. “No offense, just … I mean, you obviously know this stuff and all.”

“I do,” Jensen says with a tiny smile. “And I also know a lot about lists,” he insists while flipping to a fresh piece of paper and drawing a line right down the center of it. “I fucking love making lists and crossing things off. How about you?”

Jared furrows his brow. “Sure, I guess.”

“You guess? There is no greater feeling than sorting out a bunch of crap then crossing it all off when it’s done. I feel so … so accomplished. Fuck,” he quietly curses at the end, as if reliving the very moment of completing a list.

“Okay,” Jared says flatly, unsure of what else to say.

“Okay, awesome, we’re gonna list this shit.” Jensen adds a perpendicular line to the top of the page and titles each column – the right side gets a thick black straight line, and the left gets a rainbow. “Which one are we starting with? Total dude bro or gaytastic?”

He has to laugh because it’s absurd to just make a list that will decide his sexuality, but Jensen is so gung-ho and _delighted_ about this list that Jared wants to run with it. Maybe, just for Jensen “We can start with _dude bro_.”

After five minutes, the right column is filled with a number of statements that are less facts than expectations for what Jared thinks he should be. For what he’s always been told he is. It takes quite a bit of courage to name even one item for the left column, but he knows it’s a damning piece of evidence.

“I can’t stop thinking about … someone.”

“Do you want to talk about him?”

Jared sucks in a breath and meets Jensen’s eyes. Seconds later, he’s looking anywhere but at Jensen, the exact person that never leaves his mind. 

“Okay, skipping that part. So, what do you think about?”

With a shrug, he mumbles, “I don’t know … just stuff.”

“Stuff like, ‘that guy is really cool, I wanna be just like him?’ Or …?”

“Noooooo,” Jared drags the word out, nerves making his voice shake. “More like, ‘he’s totally cool, and open and I admire the hell out of him.’”

Jensen makes a thoughtful face and shrugs. “I mean, that doesn’t have to make you gay. You can still have mad respect for someone just because they’re awesome.”

Jared moves around on his stool, wiping his forearms over the table and doing whatever he can to release this nervous energy. “No, it’s like … I can’t stop thinking about him and how awesome he is.”

“Sooooo, you could be best friends with him.”

He sucks in a breath to admit, “I kinda think maybe it’s more than just friends.”

“How’s that?”

“I sweat a lot, when I see him, or when I think about him.”

“I don’t know, dude. You seem like you’re always sweating …”

“And I kinda sorta thought about him in _that_ way.”

“In what way?”

“You know,” Jared stresses with a roll of his eyes.

“Like, you think he’s really cute and adorable and sweet?” Jensen teases with a crooked smile.

Jared narrows his eyes and purses his lips then goes for the cheap shot to shut Jensen up for a second: “Yeah, I think he’s really cute and adorable while I jack off.”

With wide eyes, Jensen leans back then chuckles. “Well, then, sounds like you’re leaning pretty heavily to the right column.”

“That’s what I figure,” he murmurs, dipping his head and scribbling in his sketchbook. Blue lines cross over each other in a crude X before Jared angles his hand further to the right to strike more lines through the center. He continues to fan out his strokes while listening to Jensen try to support him through this crisis.

“If that’s what it is, then that’s what it is. It doesn’t make any damn difference, right? You’re still Jared. You still play basketball and ace tests and root for the Cowboys.”

Jared cracks a tiny smile, but continues to focus on his drawing, which is now spreading out into a wide starburst.

“And that’s the thing I learned after a while … you’re still a person, and you can still speak your mind and have opinions, have friends and family, though they may change perspectives. But if you’re open enough about friendships, then you find some really kick-ass ones in the most unlikely places.”

“Like here,” Jared mumbles. He wishes he could suck those two little words right back, but they’re out there now, and Jensen doesn’t seem bothered in the least.

He smiles warmly and nods. “Yeah, of course like here. If you don’t get tired of me and my occasional slips into vulgarities from time to time.”

“It’s probably one of your finer traits,” Jared jokes, then feels his face warm up with joy when Jensen smiles back while throwing a marker at him.

Late in the basketball season, they face off against Cunningham High, their regional rival whose lineup always features roughed-up guys with sharp elbows and hip checks.

Jared leads the scoring, working hard, busting his ass. He gets elbowed in the cheek but goes on like it never happened, ignores the pain and the close touches of his teammates making sure he’s okay. 

The cheerleaders look distressed, especially Danneel, but Jared shakes it all off. He insists to the coach that everything is okay and marches with confidence to the free throw line. Everyone lines up – Aldis, Stephen, Matt, Tahmoh – a big, beefy squad that could be the end of an era when they all graduate. Jared has no time to think about that now, even if his brain is tripped up with the harsh echo of the basketball on the hard wood floor every time he dribbles. The cheering of the crowd fades to the background. A bit more distant is the cry of the cheerleaders … _Sink that basket … sink, sink that basket …_

Jared stretches his neck out and catches a glimpse of his parents sitting on either side of Megan about halfway up the stands. Mama holds her hands together like a prayer, and Papa is leaning forward in anticipation. Briefly, Jared wonders what would happen if he missed these free throws. If he didn’t tie the game right up with just six seconds left, and he wasn’t the super hero that they all expect him to be. 

He dribbles the ball a few more times, barely acknowledging the impatience on the other players’ faces, and finally he rises off his heels and shoots the ball. It’s not slow motion like he expected. The ball quickly sails through the air and falls through the hoop, nothing but net. 

The crowd blares back to life in his ears, buzzing and ringing. Every player is set back in position around the center paint, and Jared again dribbles the ball in front of him. His temple suddenly aches, as if the adrenaline has run out and he has to acknowledge the boney elbow he got to the face. When he blinks, the side of his eye hurts, too, and he’s slightly dizzy.

Maybe this is the moment he loses it all. When he gives in to being perfect, to making every shot just right, and walking away from the masses expecting more than should be humanly possible. Jared glances to his family again, hears his heartbeat solidly in his ears, feels it in his neck, and wars with the panic of never letting them down and the will to just _be_ , however it is that makes him happy. 

Something grabs his attention at the edge of the bleachers. Just beyond the cheerleaders, who are bouncing up and down in excitement and fanning their pom poms in the air, someone climbs halfway up the side of the railings and keeps themselves high enough to see the court over the girls. 

Jared smiles because it’s Jensen who’s actually here watching Jared. Jensen who has notably missed any major school event unless it included food. Jensen who is moving this way and that for an uninterrupted view and waiting along with a thousand other folks for Jared to make this basket.

Taking a deep breath, he adjusts his feet a couple inches until he feels like he has the perfect position to lift off his heels and shoot. 

The ball sails into the air, smacking the left side of the hoop, then the backboard, and again on the rim, bouncing up. Tahmoh is swift with the rebound, hip-checking an opponent to get the ball firmly in his hands before jumping right back up and tossing the ball into the basket.

Hysteria breaks out with the score now tied at an even 67 with only four seconds left on the clock. 

Coach calls time out and they all crowd around the bench. Cheerleaders fluff their poms over Tahmoh’s back, and the guy is grinning like a loon. Jared, too, because he feels like he handed this opportunity to his friend and teammate. Like his one misstep on that shot, which he felt the second his fingers grazed the ball upon release, made way for someone else’s glory.

Jared is brought back to the present when Coach nabs his arm to pull him closer so he can listen in on the last-second play for defending against an opposing basket. Coach is terribly red faced, bad enough Jared wonders if the old guy’s heart will finally stop ticking, and he’ll fall forward like a log smacking the floor. That doesn’t happen, yet Jared smiles imagining it. 

Coach screams louder over the hectic sound of the crowd – half of them shouting in excitement, another half singing the school’s fight song along with Buster the Bull leading them from where he dances at center court.

The old sports adage to go for the tie at home is in full effect here. Overtime will be on their side with the whole place lit up in exhilaration, all that energy giving the team a new surge of determination. 

An official blows his whistle and the team breaks then heads out to the court to take their positions. Jared is bumping along with an ultra-lanky forward with a shaved head. Could be the guy who elbowed him earlier given how thin his arms are, and especially with how physical he is, pushing back on Jared to maintain his position. The opposing left guard stands by Austin South’s basket to pass the ball in. The guy aims for the asshole still shoving at Jared, and without thought, Jared rushes forward and bats at the ball, getting just enough of his fingertips on it to angle it right into Tahmoh’s hands. 

No one is in front of Jared, who’s still running with forward momentum, and he’s beneath the basket far before anyone even realizes Austin South retrieved the ball. Tahmoh tosses the pass up over defenders and down to Jared, who grabs it out of thin air. He pulls the ball down with two hands, holding as tightly as possible, before popping back up and tipping the ball off his fingertips and up against the big square of the backboard. 

The buzzer sounds just before the ball drops through the rim, but it’s still a basket, and Austin South has won to take over first place in the standings just before the playoffs. Now, they’re the first seed in the tournament, earning a bye the first round and guaranteeing they live longer than half of the other competitors. 

Players, students, parents, everyone rushes the court and Jared is immediately bowled over by Tahmoh, with Aldis and Matt rushing over to pile on top as they scream at the top of their lungs. 

“You and me, Jay!” Tahmoh cheers. “You and me, all the way! The back court, baby!”

Jared beams and soaks in all the excitement, the noise, the intensity of the party carrying on all around them. Soon, other players pull them off each other to celebrate, throwing arms around everyone, jumping in every direction. Coach grabs Jared around the neck, fiercely hugging him close with tears glassing up his eyes. 

Pride beams inside and Jared’s eyes are wet now, too, and a few tears slip free when his parents hug him tightly. 

“Real proud of you, son,” Papa says as Mama echoes it over and over again.

She even adds, “That’s my JT! My boy won the game!”

Instantly, he tries to recoil then slows his movements so it’s not as obvious as it could be. Again, he wonders what would’ve happened if he didn’t make the winning basket, if someone else had to save the game. He glances over to Tahmoh, who’s swaying side to side with his girlfriend, Katie, in his arms and looking proud as hell. 

Jared smiles at that vision, again thankful that someone had their moment in the sun. He knows Tahmoh was a key player in the final seconds, and even if Jared nailed the last two points, it would never have happened without a helping hand.

“Jay!” Danneel screeches before launching herself at him. He catches her and heaves her up high on his hip while she raises her arms and shakes her pom poms. She chants over the rumbling noise of the crowd to get them going in a cheer. “Big time Bulls, awwwww shhhhh! Let’s go with the big time Bulls, awwww shhhh!”

Jared sings along with the crowd until he’s tired of holding Danneel up, and carefully eases her down. She hugs him tightly, kisses his cheek, then shouts that he’s their hero and lifts his arm up into the air.

Shirking away, Jared smiles to the crowd as best he can, then tries to get out of the melee. Any game before, he’d be front and center, leading cheers and songs, hamming it up for everyone around them. This time, he wants to appreciate the moment and move on to the next. 

It doesn’t quite happen that way, because when he backs away from the crowd, his parents and sister are right there to push him back into it.

“No, it’s cool,” he insists as the noise continues on behind him. “I’ve celebrated plenty.”

“JT,” Mama chides him, “you get back out there and live in your moment!”

With a chuckle, he replies, “It’s not that big of a moment.”

“You won that game, son!” Papa adds.

“Yeah, but it’s just a game.”

His parents immediately go silent and stare at him. Megan seems a bit confused as well, but at least she saves the moment by patting him on the chest with a wry smile. “That elbow probably hit him too hard in the head. Knocked his brains out.”

Jared laughs and brings her in with his arm around her neck, knuckles her hair while bending her over. “You little shitbag!”

“JT! Language!”

_Yes, ma’am_ sits on his tongue then stalls there. The response never comes and he simply acknowledges his mama with a small nod.

At the bonfire that night, Jared splits his time between his friends and Jensen, who’s spending most of the evening with Felicia and Genevieve.

He waits until the others are distracted to bring up Jensen’s appearance at the game. “I didn’t know you liked basketball?”

Jensen takes a long drink from his cup in lieu of answering. 

“I mean, I saw you there. Off on the side of the bleachers?”

With a smart smile, Jensen shrugs. “I just had to see the Perfect Padalecki play.”

“You’re such a liar,” Jared insists with a matching smile. “You claim you hate all that school stuff, but I saw you there.”

“Eh, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” He dips his head to see more Jensen’s face in profile. 

Jensen finally looks Jared in the eyes, appearing bold and amused. “I wanted to see you play, okay? I know it’s a big thing for you and I wanted to see it.”

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed,” Jared mocks him. 

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “And you’re annoying when you’re drunk.”

“I’m only a little drunk.”

“So you’re only a little annoying?” Jensen jokes back. 

It’s true that Jared has been drinking, and now feels the alcohol building up his confidence. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For … everything.” He takes a big gulp from his drink and he’s definitely bold enough to say more. “For coming to my game, for drawing me, for being my friend.”

“Just so long as you’re happy.”

“I am,” Jared says, and he feels it with the quick bob of his nod.

“And I’m happy you’re happy.” Jensen’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight and Jared wonders if it’s more than just being a little tipsy and out in the light.

Mostly because Jared is feeling much the same with moisture building in his eyes for having gotten to know Jensen. For having someone to rely on while dealing with his tormenting time of figuring out he’s gay. For finding a new friend … and maybe something more, because Jensen pats Jared’s back then rubs over his shoulder blade with warmth.

“I hope you keep doing this, you know? Going for what you want and not caring about what’s expected of you. Like school and friends and stuff. You’re really important, too.”

Jared licks his lips and shuffles a few inches closer. “So are you.”

Jensen’s eyes glaze over as they drop down to watch Jared’s mouth, and Jared wonders what it would be like to kiss him, to touch and taste and _have_ those lips. He’s always wondered, but now it feels like it’s possible.

Suddenly, Stephen cranks up the radio for Queen’s “We Will Rock You”, and everyone sings along. 

Jared looks over to his friends drinking faster and dancing around the fire in celebration of their big win tonight. 

“Enjoy yourself,” Jensen says at Jared’s ear before backing away to join his own set of friends on the other side of the fire. 

Jared watches Jensen walk away and his heart soars with all that was said and even that which was unsaid.


	5. Chapter 5

Jared misses the chance to follow up on that moment at the bonfire. Playoffs rush by with daily practices going on for hours, and games take them away from their home court to play all across the region.

Going on to the state tournament – and winning – pushes the season even longer, and next Jared knows, people are talking about Prom and graduation and college. 

Jared finally signs on with the Texas Longhorns and makes his family happy for staying in the state. Mama and Papa are also absurdly proud for the basketball scholarship he picked up, making their own life easier for putting Jared through four years at a big university. 

Soon enough, though, the next big decision is Prom. 

Jared knows he only wants to spend that evening with one person. He’s just not sure how that would fly with all of his friends. 

Yet, in the tradition of Jensen, Jared decides to toss all expectations and judgment to the side and go for what he really wants. 

It seems to be the one last big decision he has for himself.

“Are you going to Prom?”

Jensen scoffs, and one of his lines goes awry. His marker stops at the very edge of the missed mark then swoops over to readjust his pattern. 

“I mean, it’s _Senior_ Prom,” Jared goes on, “and we’re seniors. You don’t get another Prom.”

“Didn’t really need one in the first place.”

Jared frowns a little and repeatedly looks between Jensen’s sketchbook and Jensen’s downturned face, eyes narrowed and lips pursed in concentration. “You tried going to Homecoming.”

Jensen laughs as he crudely fills in a tiny triangle with fast, jerky lines. “Yeah, what a fuck-up that was.”

“Maybe if you had someone to go with.”

“Yeah? Like who?”

Sucking in a breath, Jared reconsiders saying anything. Wishes he could pull all these words back inside. 

After a bit of silence, Jensen looks up, face open and curious. “Did you find yourself a date?”

“I … no, but, um,” he mutters, setting his gaze far across the room where random colors of a few palettes blur together. As his vision crosses, the colors blend into one another and it looks like a rainbow, reminding him of that first time he and Jensen had a serious conversation. 

_The light after the dark._

“But what?” Jensen asks. 

Jared breathes deeply then meets Jensen’s eyes head on. “I was thinking of asking someone.”

“Who’s that?”

He can tell Jensen is unaffected and has no clue of what the next word will be. “You.”

A quick burst of laughter spills out of Jensen’s mouth before he covers it. “Oh, fuck, sorry. That was rude.”

Jared’s the one whose heart has plummeted into his knees, and the one who has to save face after being laughed at for asking Jensen to Prom. The one who led Jared down this road to self-discovery and became the real support system he never knew he craved. 

Jared is the one whose mouth is bone dry and whose throat narrows so he can’t breathe. His heart is hollow in his chest, and yet he wonders why Jensen appears to be the wrecked one, tears filling his eyes. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Jensen says, “I shouldn’t have laughed.”

After he clears his throat, Jared sits upright and closes his sketchbook. He sets his hands over it with his fingers tucking around the edges. He wonders if he’ll get paper cuts. A hundred of them for every stomp on his heart. 

“I just … the Prom? … it’s kind of ridiculous … and with me? You don’t want to do that.”

Now Jared feels offended for his feelings, so he stares right at Jensen. “And why is that? Why don’t I want that?”

Jensen winces and turns from one side to the other with nervous energy. “I mean, I’m not really that guy. I don’t do dances.”

“But just once,” Jared mumbles. “Just once, to go with a friend.”

“Friend,” Jensen whispers. “Yeah, no, we’re friends. But, I mean … it’s just.” He sighs and makes a face. “Just not me, you know?”

Jared fakes a smile and nods. “No I don’t know, but okay.” He shoves his things into his backpack and rises so quickly, the stool is knocked to the ground. He doesn’t bother looking back as he marches to the hall.

“Jared!” Jensen calls, running after him. He tugs Jared around to face him, and his eyes are wild and wide, lips restless like he’s trying to speak but can’t.

Jared feels just the same, like he can’t get any words out. 

“Look … you’re Mr. Basketball Scholarship and Prom Committee and shit. You’re best friends with the fucking Prom Queen.”

“She hasn’t won yet,” he mumbles on reflex, then bites off a smile when Jensen smirks a little.

“I sit in empty rooms and draw for hours on end. I can’t keep my hands clean to save my life,” he says with a bitter laugh, lifting his hands up to show the sides of his palms dirtied up like always. “I get kicked out of dances and I don’t go to sporting events and I curse like a sailor.”

“You came to my game!” he argues. “I saw you there, even if you wouldn’t say shit to me. You were there, hanging on the side of the bleachers, like I wouldn’t see you.”

“It was one damn game.” Jensen shrugs and seems to be unaffected, but Jared can read more under the surface. “I swung by after I was done at Sam’s, and that’s it. 

“Have you ever gone to a game before?”

There’s no answer, even when Jared knows Jensen has not. As he’s gotten to know Jensen, there have been a number of things discussed regarding extra-curricular activities. His brother’s baseball games back when Jensen was a freshman and Josh was a starting pitcher, a few plays that Felicia worked tech on, and his one attempt at Homecoming earlier this year. 

Never was basketball mentioned, or even hinted at. Jared is certain he would remember that much. And yet Jensen won’t admit to it, and remains completely still aside from labored breathing.

Jared blinks, quite a few times as he continues to stare at Jensen. He’s not sure if he’s waiting for more to be said, or for Jensen to just walk away. Maybe even for his feet to finally work and get him out of here. None of that happens. They stay in their places, eyes locked, and chests both rising and falling with measured breathing.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and bites, _hard_. As he winces, Jensen does, too. Finally, Jared finds the words, and he frowns with the true bite of them hitting him before they will Jensen.

“The guy I said I couldn’t stop thinking about? The one that made me think twice about myself? It was you. You brought me here, right to this room, because of how I felt about you. And now what?”

“Jared,” Jensen breathes out, face frozen in something like fear. 

“No, I get it. You are all big feelings until it really counts.”

Jared shakes his head, at Jensen and at himself, then walks away.

He skips plans with Stephen and Aldis, for once not caring what the repercussions are. Rejection and shame war within, and his body hasn’t bothered with fight or flight. It’s just been screaming _run, run, run_.

He does run most of the way home, with legs burning through the push, tears refusing to dry fast enough on his face, so that when he bursts through the front door, he loses strength and his knees buckle. He hits the floor hard and drops forward to barely stay propped up on his hands and knees. His lungs work double time to get him air, but it’s never enough, and he’s panting through a fresh wave of panic. 

Mama rushes into the foyer, hysterical and trying to help, even as Jared shrugs her off and begs her to leave him alone. 

“JT!” she cries. “What is wrong?”

The fear in her voice freaks him out and he finds himself crying all over again. Mama drops down next to him and he’s useless to fight now as his chest heaves with stuttering, tearful breaths. She pulls him to the side and cradles his head, wiping sweaty hair away from his forehead, tears off his cheeks. They’re slowly rocking and she’s softly shushing him, and his panic fades enough that his panicky breathing settles into soft hiccups. 

Mama kisses his forehead and continues to gently rock him until the only noise in the hallway is her soft humming. He doesn’t recognize the song, but it does the job and relaxes him. 

Jared thinks back to being seven, having just mastered riding his brand new big boy bike, and taking a big spill on their street. He’d been weaving lazy patterns between driveways on either side of the block, so lost in thought he hadn’t seen the car coming. He swerved the handlebars so swiftly that he toppled over front of the bike and tore up both elbows and knees. 

Like a hawk, Mama had been outside in an instant to sweep him up off the cement and get him inside for bandages and ice packs. She then held him just the same as she is now, humming something soft and soothing to distract him from everything else, to bring the panic down a few levels so they could assess his injuries. 

She does the same here, combing his hair back with her fingernails lightly scratching his scalp, and whispers the hardest question Jared has ever had to consider. 

“What’s wrong, honey?”

He goes for the easiest answer first. “I asked someone to Prom. And they said no.”

She stifles a laugh, just barely, and coos him. “Oh, baby, it’s not high school until you feel a li’l rejection.”

Jared swallows hard and clenches his eyes closed. He takes the deepest breath possible then lets it out. All of it. “It was a boy. I asked a boy to Prom.”

Mama’s hand stops in his hair, and Jared’s entire being tightens up awaiting her response. All she says is an awkward, “Okay.”

Thankful she can’t see his face, and because the door has already been opened, he admits to everything. “I think I like boys. I definitely like this one. Thought he liked me, too.”

She sweeps her hands over his face and hair then brings him upright so she can search his face. They share a long look where they’re both full of fear, and Jared shrinks back a few inches waiting for her to scream, or slap him, or something.

“Baby … are you … what is the …”

He blinks away tears and ignores her attempts to ask whatever it is she needs to know. He has a question that he really needs to know. “So now what? What if I do like boys? Do you care about that? Would you still love me?”

Her face sets into a tense expression that he can’t read. She palms his face and looks him in the eyes long enough that he can’t stand to be here anymore. 

Jared pulls away from her then rubs his face and eyes to erase any signs of crying, as if he can pretend it never happened. “God, I’m such an idiot. This is so stupid.”

“No, JT … ”

“I’m so stupid and just being a big baby. So what if someone doesn’t like me back?” He laughs harshly and jumps up before hurrying up the stairs without looking back. He can’t bear to see the fright in her eyes that he’s an abomination. That he’s no longer her little boy, and who knows what else she’ll think he’ll no longer be. 

He slams his bedroom door shut and ignores anyone’s offer to talk … Mama, Papa, even Megan. His cell phone even lights up with Aldis, Matt, and Stephen each wondering where he’s been and why he ditched them. 

Then when Jeff’s name lights up his screen, he knows Mama already told his brother. 

Jared can’t face any of them. He turns his phone off and tosses it into his closet where a basket of clothes breaks what could’ve been a hard fall. All while he knows there’s nothing to ease his own fall.

That evening, he stays in his room all burrowed in the covers. The TV is on with a block of comedies he’s never watched before, but nothing makes him laugh. He can’t even crack a smile when he knows he normally would.

The covers get tugged up to his chin, and he bends his upper body down towards his knees. He tips his head at an impossible angle to still see the TV on his desk. His vision warps at the tilting perspective, and somehow it makes him feel better about it all. Makes him think he always saw things from a different vantage point. One the others never bothered to climb up to, one that makes a person go crazy within their skin yet but becomes real all the same. 

He thinks again about Mama and the odd look on her face when he asked her if she’d still love him. He’d thought she was looking at him stupid, and he was angry. Yet, when he thinks it over, maybe she meant it in a different way entirely …

An hour later, there’s a soft knock at the door, and Mama enters without his permission. She doesn’t touch the lights or the TV, but just crawls into bed behind him and wraps one arm up around his head and another over his waist … well, he sighs, and thinks maybe he really is stupid. 

“I love you,” she whispers into his hair.

He was stupid to think she’d think of him any differently.

“Always have, always will.”

To think he wouldn’t be welcome in their home.

“You’re still my little boy.” Her arms tighten around him and her fingers slide into his hair to comb their way through it.

To think she’d _hate_ him. 

“Growing up so strong. You’re stronger than anyone else in this house, Jared.”

To think she’d _forget_ about him.

Just the quick change in his name, her final acknowledgement that he is more than the little boy who followed Mama everywhere and was bound to be a smart, well-behaved young man someday. 

He finally cries. 

And Mama holds him.

His parents ask him if he wants to stay home from school, and Jared thinks he’s woken up in some alternate reality.

Mama insists he’s had a big day and she understands if he wants to rest. Papa even suggests they go down to the Riverwalk for lunch and a lot of fresh air. 

Jared’s sitting up in bed while staring at his parents, shocked and touched and yet worried all the same. “I don’t understand,” he murmurs. 

He doesn’t understand because these are not the God-serving parents he’s grown up with. The ones who honor church and hard work and being good folks who are dependable for every inch of their lives. 

“Why aren’t you at work?” Jared asks. He’s so confused and on edge, he flinches when his father comes closer to sit at the edge of the bed.

“I think Mama and I realized that we forgot one God’s most important messages.” Papa looks to Mama, and Jared now fears the real freak out, for the room to burst into flames so he can be properly punished for how he feels. It doesn’t happen, because Papa just sadly smiles and pats Jared’s leg. “To take care of children, for they are the future.”

Jared glances at each of them, still confused and worried. Mama softly laughs, sweeps her hands through his bedhead, and clears the air for good. “We spent so much time making sure you had all the right opportunities that we lost sight of _you_. And now, we want to right our wrongs.”

“Right now?” he asks.

“Better late than never?”

Jared finds that late is definitely better than never. Mama and Papa are slow to really understand what’s happening with Jared, but they don’t shame him for it, or ignore the fact that things have changed. They’re softer with their admonishments in the house – with Megan, too – and he no longer dreads dinners at home and saying grace.

They still pray and go to church every Sunday, maintain their faith and the community, but Mama and Papa insist they’re trying to find their way to follow the Lord’s intentions to love all of his children while ignoring the more unsavory parts of the Bible.

It’s extremely slow, and they all fumble through it, but Jared hasn’t smiled at home this much since long before Senior year.

At school, it continues to be rough to hide, lie, and pretend nothing has changed for him. With his friends, Ms. Smith, and especially Jensen.

Jared acts like nothing ever happened between them … not the art lessons or the night at the bon fire, not even the rejected prom invitation. Jensen, for the most part, seems to go along with the charade whenever they pass in the halls or at Ms. Smith’s office. 

It huts like hell, and Jared struggles to balance this with what he has now with his family, and he figures that moving forward in life with his parents behind him, and his siblings insisting they don’t care if he’s straight, gay, or blue, is far better for his future than hanging onto whatever it was he felt for Jensen.

Doesn’t make it any easier, of course, and he finds himself staring at Jensen from time to time. He imagines what it would be like if they truly were able to test out the connection Jared felt with him. To build upon the bond they’d already forged over sketchbooks and rainbows. But he’ll never know. 

His friends will find out soon enough, with Prom on everyone’s minds. 

Stephen asks Jared why he hasn’t nailed down a prom date yet—“that you can nail later,” Stephen adds with a hearty, yet dirty chuckle. 

Danneel even jumps into the melee, asking Jared who she can help him ask. 

“I’m actually thinking of not going,” Jared admits, because that’s as far as he can get with his friends right now. 

They’re all shocked, as if he openly admitted to what’s really going on. But he doesn’t, and won’t, even when they start to figure it out themselves. 

“C’mon now,” Matt laughs. “Don’t be a pussy. You’re going to Prom.”

“Why don’t you wanna go?” Danneel asks,sounding like she’s the only one who really cares to know. 

“Yeah, man,” Aldis adds while slinging his arm around Alaina’s shoulders, “We’re all sharing a limo, right? Just like last year?”

Jared knows nothing is like last year, and he’s not sure how to explain that to his friends.

The bell saves him from having to answer, except Danneel corners him after school at his locker. 

“Alright, you, out with it.”

“With what?” he answers while fiddling with books for his backpack. He doesn’t look at her, but the view he gets from the corner of his eye tells him she means business and isn’t about to let him off the hook. 

“You’ve been my best friend since we were eight.”

“Nine,” Jared corrects. “You were obsessed with Jake’s pool until he moved and you wanted to use my Slip ‘n Slide.”

Danneel chuckles. “That was a great summer. But still, you’re my BFF, which means I have rights to torture you until you come out with it.”

He freezes at her choice of words, yet she goes on.

“Why don’t you want to go to Prom? Do you want me to help you find a date? Do you want to go solo? You know I don’t care. Just tell me.”

Jared glances around, thankful the hallway is thinning out as students rush out on a Friday afternoon. He sighs and faces his fate. Of course he wants her to know; he just fears the act of actually telling her. “I already asked someone.”

Her brown eyes go wide and she’s excited. “Oh, awesome! Who?”

He adds one last notebook to his bag then shuts the locker. Turning to Danneel, he looks right at her, knowing this isn’t nearly as hard as telling his Bible-thumping parents, but it’s still extremely difficult. To tell anyone in school, anyone other than counselors sworn to secrecy, is really damn hard. 

Quick like a Band-Aid ripped from skin, Jared opens himself up to bare his wounds. “Jensen. And he said no, so it’s not even a big deal.”

Danneel blinks. Once, twice, three times, until her mouth opens a little bit. “Jensen Ackles,” she repeats. 

“Yeah. Jensen Ackles.”

It takes a few moments for her to really respond, and it’s an awkward yet nearly embarrassed, “Oh, I had no idea.” She appears to hide a laugh until she snorts and smiles then practically giggles. “Wow, I really had _no_ idea.”

“Yeah, me either,” he admits, still tense over what she’s really thinking. “Not until a few months ago.”

“ _Ohhhhh_ ,” Danneel drags out with her mouth in a perfect circle. “So that’s what’s been going on. Jesus, Jared, why didn’t you talk to me about it? I was so worried about you.”

Jared lets out a sigh with the relief that she’s more worried about him being _him_ , than him being gay. “Because I didn’t know what you’d say. Or what anyone else would say.”

“Well, yeah, okay, other people are assholes, but I’m your best friend.” Now she frowns and looks away. “It doesn’t matter to me. Hell, this makes is easier for my parents to accept that we’ll never end up together.”

He laughs and feels lighter than he has in a long time while inside these brick walls. “Yeah, mine, too.”

Danneel switches into panic mode and covers her mouth. “Oh shit, do your parents know?”

More proud than he thought he’d be about this, Jared nods and smiles crookedly. “Yeah, they all do, and they’re … handling it. I mean, I think they’re afraid of what it really means in the Land of God, but they’re trying.”

She immediately reaches for his face, murmurs, “Oh, Jared,” then wraps her arms around his neck in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with this alone.”

He hugs her back, pulling at her hips to lift her off the ground for a second or two. When they let go, he feels wrong to be thankful, when he should have relied on her all along. His other friends, however, he’s not so sure about, so he makes sure she understands. “Aside from Jensen and the counselor, no one else knows here, if you catch my drift …”

With a nod, Danneel mimes zipping her lips. “Of course. It’s safe with me.”

Just like when he finally told his mom, he is floored by the acceptance and love Danneel is honoring him with. And even more heartwarming is when she offers to be his Prom date, all so they can just have fun at the last big event of their high school careers together, with no expectations or judgments from anyone. 

He’s never been happier to have her at his side.

Jared mills around the punch, acting as a cover for when Aldis and Matt spill out not one flask, but two, full of vodka. Danneel sidles up next to Jared with the ruffles of her royal blue dress waving with every shake of her hips to a Taylor Swift remix.

He laughs at her while keeping one eye on the guys spiking the punch bowl. “I thought you hated Tay-Tay.”

“I do, but I also hate the idea of not enjoying our last big night.”

Her eyes are a little glassy and big, and her breath has the remnants of the tequila Tahmoh brought in his flask. Still, she’s aware enough to nudge him and nod off to the side. 

“And I hate the idea of _you_ not enjoying your last big night.”

Jared doesn’t hear anything else around him as the music overhead swells in his ears. The Taylor Swift remix switches into something from Flo Rida and the quick pace of the rap and bass ramps up Jared’s heartbeat even more as he sees Jensen coming towards him, dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo, grey tie, and hair softly swept off to the side. Jensen is as formal as he could ever get, no matter his personality. 

There’s excitement zinging through Jared’s veins, and yet disappointment runs ice cold when he considers that while Jensen rejected his invitation to the dance, he’s here and dressed to fit in. 

When they’re toe to toe, Jared fumbles with his words and finally spits out, “What’re you doing here?”

“I, uh, I dunno,” Jensen admits then laughs at himself. “Look at this fucking thing,” he adds while motioning at his suit. “I look like an asshole.”

Immediately, Jared says, “You look amazing.”

“So do you,” Jensen replies quietly, eyes sad and worried. “But then again, you always do.”

Jared nervously smiles, because he still lives with the torment of the day he wrangled all his courage together and yet was snubbed by Jensen. He also continues to fear how his friends would react to knowing Jared’s true feelings. A quick glance over his shoulders shows that only a few of them are paying attention, and not even that well as they pass Tahmoh’s flask around again. 

Danneel is there, however, with her sights right on them. Her eyes are glassier than before and her cheek twitches with her nervous smile. She flashes a quick thumbs up, and Jared knows he has to put himself before everyone else in this room, right now. 

He turns back to Jensen and stands up straight. “I can’t believe you’re here. You said you hate dances.”

“Yeah, I do, but uh … there was this guy … he made me think twice about myself.” Jensen breathes deeply, drumming up the courage to continue, and looks Jared right in the eye. “You brought me here. Right to this room. All because of how I felt about you.”

Jared blinks as he relives that day in the hallway, his own words put back in his lap, by a stunningly earnest Jensen, dressed up in a tuxedo. Jensen nervous fluffs his hair, like he misses the faux hawk, and Jared can see the dusty black ink that’s always rubbed onto his hands and the sides of fingers. This is still the Jensen he knows just beneath the surface, just in a different package. And it’s all for Jared. 

“And now what?” Jared asks quietly, maybe a bit hopeful.

Jensen glances around nervously before stepping further into Jared’s personal space. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I told you … I don’t do dances.”

Jared slowly smiles. With only an ounce of fear, he sets his hands over Jensen’s elbows in comfort, and then runs his hands down to Jensen’s. Immediately, Jensen curls his fingers around Jared’s hand and squeezes. “Well, the thing I’ve learned about dances is that it’s a place where people _dance_.”

Jensen winces, nose crinkling along with the lines at the corners of his eyes. He is uncomfortable and far out of his zone, and Jared finds him completely beautiful. “I don’t dance either.”

“Okay, well …” Jared huffs a little as he glances around. Deep down, he knows he doesn’t have to find anything to keep Jensen’s attention. It’s enough that Jensen showed up at all and has remained right in front of him. “Aldis and Matt spiked the punch.”

“This is my kind of party!” Jensen crows and leads them right to the refreshments. He keeps his hand around Jared’s and releases it only to get them each a cup of punch. 

Over the rim of his glass, Jared watches Jensen and slowly sips at the sharp taste of alcohol. Jensen, on the other hand, downs it in just two gulps before setting the glass on the table and wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve.

For a second, he appears guilty to be caught by Jared, but then he smirks and shrugs. “Hey, I told you I can be vulgar.”

“I know.” Now his cheeks burn with the tightness of his elated smile. “I just can’t believe you actually showed up.”

“Well, I mean.” Jensen moves closer and drops his voice. “To be honest, it was the very first time someone really asked me to go.”

Jared narrows his eyes and purses his lip. “Liar.”

He makes a face and tosses his head back with a sigh. “Okay, not, like, ever. But the first time it meant anything. That it was someone I cared about.”

A thousand words spin around in Jared’s head, and he can’t settle on any to express the warmth running through him, or the way his heart is stuttering in excitement. Instead, he inches forward and lowers his head to kiss Jensen on the lips. It’s off center and light, and Jared backs away immediately, only to be drawn right back in with Jensen’s hand curling around his neck. Jensen tilts his head to get the right angle and gives Jared what he will always remember as his first real kiss. 

“You said I didn’t care when it counts,” Jensen says gravely, leaning closer, keeping his eyes right with Jared’s. “This counts. This really fucking counts.”

Again, Jared is speechless and shows his emotions with a kiss, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s hips and spinning them out onto the dance floor when a drum kicks in with a steady beat for everyone to dance to.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days later, Jared puts on his cap and gown so he’s covered in bright blue from head to toe. Danneel adjusts his cap and tweaks his cheeks with a sweet smile.

“We’re doing it, Jared.”

Jared takes a deep breath and loves being lost in the loud noises of graduates waiting in the field house to be led out onto the field for the ceremony. “Yeah, we really are.”

“What a crazy ride, huh?” Danneel laughs.

He knows she means all four years, but to him it’s all about the last four months. And the next four to come, and a dozen beyond that. 

There are plenty of weeks between now and the start of college, and he’s content to enjoy that time without worrying over all that awaits him. The old Jared definitely would be focused on that already. This new Jared is more interested in the possibilities and unanswered questions.

Like Jensen, who slips between other grads and joins Jared at the front of the line. Jared’s at the start of the crowd in honor of his grades landing him in the top twenty-five students, while Jensen should be back by the students lined up alphabetically by last name. 

Others around them watch when Jensen cuts line and stands beside Jared. They could be annoyed with him being out of place or just because it’s Jensen. Maybe even because of what happened at Prom, which likely became the hottest gossip of the year. 

Jared doesn’t care, and he closes his hand around Jensen’s. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jensen replies while squeezing Jared’s hand. “You?”

“Not at all,” he admits with a smile. “And it’s totally fucking great.”

“Oh, Jared Padalecki!” Jensen shames him with overplayed shock. “What a dirty mouth you have.”

“I hope so.” Jared flits his eyebrow then laughs when Jensen’s cheeks turn red.   
When he spots Mr. Beaver heading there way, looking none too plussed at Jensen being in their line, he elbows Jensen. “You’ve been spotted. Better get back in line.”

“Hell no, I’m staying right here. I want a front row seat to all the pomp and circumstance.”

“Mr. Ackles,” Mr. Beaver intones deeply from behind him. “I think you’ve got somewhere else to be right now?”

“I would much rather be in Hawaii, but …”

“Mr. Ackles,” Mr. Beaver says even deeper than before. 

“Yes, sir,” Jensen replies while rolling his eyes. 

Seconds later, Jensen’s wading back through the crowd and Mr. Beaver is turning away with a shake of his head. Danneel nudges Jared’s side a bright, excited smile and Jared returns before looking for Jensen again.

He breathes deeply and smirks as he reads the back of Jensen’s cap. _It’s okay not to be okay._

Everything slots into place, and he knows that life is more than what everyone wants for you. It’s about what he wants and being who he is. Who he really wants to be.

Right now, that’s a high school graduate with a new boyfriend who encourages every misstep along the way. And _that_ is okay.


End file.
